


Descendant

by hava_hp



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst, But we still love them, Gay Awakening, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Magic, Masturbation, Minor Original Character(s), Not Beta Read, Slow Burn, The Untamed (TV) References, alternate universe - the untamed, ancient korean gays, cultivation, definitely a bastardisation of both chinese and korean culture, gay asian medieval long-haired ateez wizards, if you like historical accuracy look away, jeongho and yunho are just normies, jin seonghwa, lan hongjoong, lan san, lan yeosang, nie mingi, or read with mercy, wen wooyoung
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:07:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 34,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24683551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hava_hp/pseuds/hava_hp
Summary: The sudden appearance of Wen Wooyoung, a member of the ever-reclusive Wen clan, throws the world into a stir. Seonghwa must find out the reason for it. But all the planning in the world could not account for Hongjoong of the Lan clan. At the same time, Yeosang must battle internally between an old, seemingly hopeless love for San, and the growing feelings he gains for another. But maybe he won't have to choose between them, after all?A story of clans, medieval magic, and intrigue. But the lingering promise of a prophecy and the destruction it will cause could destroy everything those too lovestruck to see it before it comes.Fic universe is based off of the universe of The Untamed/MDZS, but knowledge of them is not required to read.
Relationships: Choi San/Jung Wooyoung/Kang Yeosang, Jeong Yunho/Song Mingi, Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa
Comments: 7
Kudos: 49





	1. Chapter 1

On the chest of drawers sat a bowl. Seonghwa stood alone in front of it, waiting for the soft ripples of the water inside to calm. It was as silent inside the modest room as it was outside. Other than himself and a few lonely candles, only simple, sparse furniture occupied it. As the ripples calmed, he at last got a good look of himself. The sun hadn’t even broken through the sky at Cloud Recesses yet, but still he could easily spot the slightly fatigued colour under his eyes despite the cold splash of water. He wordlessly applied the vermillion mark between his eyes, reminding himself as he did every morning of the power and might represented by such a thing.

_ I am powerful. _ He told himself.  _ I am a member of the Jin sect. I can do this, whatever the clan leader asks of me. _

He watched his reflection stare dully back at him. He’d of course made sure he looked presentable. Even as a more distant relative of the main Jin family he had been given the finest of clothes, their soft and luxurious cream fabrics second to none in quality. Not a single hair was out of place on his head, every last strand fastened in place by the golden hairpiece sitting high uptop the knot one of the female Jin clan disciples had made earlier. The Yanling Jin sect’s motif, the white peony, sat in the centre of his chest. Perfect.

Everything was perfect and presentable. Aside from the growing bags under his eyes. He cursed, for the first time, the Gusu Lan sect and their rules. What kind of human goes to bed at nine o’clock at night and wakes at five? He had never known a group of more boring, uptight ascetics. And he couldn’t believe he was about to spend an entire  _ year _ with them.

He left the room, venturing out into the Gusu Lan sect’s home. Cloud Recesses sat atop a mountain in Gusu, a permanent mist overtaking parts of the residence. The barest touches of light were beginning to shine on the mountain, and he spied the Lan disciples leaving en masse what must be their own quarters. Both he and the Jin disciples that had been tasked to study with him at Cloud Recesses had been given their own guest quarters. Like the Lan disciples, his fellow sect members were mostly two or three to a room. He supposed his small, pathetic room was better than being handed accomodations like that. He watched as the Lan disciples walked towards the food hall in scattered groups, each covered head to toe in the same stark white robes, Lan clan headbands adorning their foreheads. None seemed overly happy or sad, only blank. Like all the colour had been sucked out of them the same way it had with their clan’s choice in clothing. How dull.

The other boys and men in the Jin sect had emerged out of their quarters in the meantime, lagging slightly behind the more organised girls. Altogether, the Jin sect had sent a variety of different age groups to study under the Lan sect this year, though Seonghwa was among the oldest at twenty-two, and the youngest had just entered his teenage years. The dozen or so fellow cultivators had gathered around him, deferring to him as the highest ranked and glancing back and forth between the direction of the food hall and him.

He felt his chest swell with pride. They felt like  _ his. _ All of them. They would do anything he ordered them to. Those who possessed the Jin blood family’s vermillion mark really did possess true power. Even if he was the third son of a distant brother, he was at the top of the pecking order.

Even if he had to go all the way to Gusu to achieve such.

“Everyone here?” He asked them, doing a quick head count. “Shall we go?”

The other disciples nodded and muttered affirmatively, following him as he made his way towards the food hall.

The Lan sect’s food hall was more impressive than the Jin sect’s quarters, but it still paled in comparison to the Yanling Jin’s Carp Tower. The food placed onto Seonghwa’s plate was shockingly bland. He held a spoonful of the mess to his mouth gingerly. He had to try not to recoil in disgust as the taste assaulted his taste buds. Every mouthful was like eating the most miserable medicine. How did these people  _ live? _ He glared at the closest table of Lan disciples as if they had personally wronged him. The other Jin disciples had sat down around him, encasing him with the familiar creamy coloured robes they wore, but keeping a still respectful distance from him.

Suddenly, another colour entered his periphery.

Dark green and grey washed up on his left side as a man sat down next to him, a tray of white food hitting the table with a loud  _ clunk. _

“Master Jin!” A voice remarked cheerily.

“Master Nie.” Seonghwa nodded at the man. “I was unaware the Nie sect had arrived.”

“Oh, we came last night.” Nie Mingi said, as more Nie sect disciples crept into the food hall. Both the Lans and Jins looked around inquisitively at the newcomers. The Nie sect’s clothes were always a dark green and grey shade. Between that and their cut and style they truly looked the antithesis of the orderly Lan sect. Another Nie sat beside Mingi, but the rest of them claimed an otherwise empty section at the end of one of the other tables.

“This is Jeong Yunho, my friend.” Mingi gestured to the man sitting next to him. “We arrived  _ technically _ past the curfew. They didn’t want to let us in. Could you believe that? We had to wait hours at the gate before we finally convinced them to let us inside. Such stuffy people, Lans.”

Mingi pouted. He slumped forward on the table, giving the unpalatable food on his plate a suspicious look. Seonghwa took a moment to observe how the boy, now man, had changed since they’d last seen one other. Though they were only a year apart, the Nie sect leader’s first son had been  _ much _ shorter when he was fourteen. Seonghwa had towered over him. Now, as Seonghwa recognised with dismay, it appeared that Nie Mingi had finally embraced his family’s genes. Jeong Yunho was similarly large. Seonghwa watched as the man’s lips quirked up at Mingi’s antics, before he glanced down at the man’s clothes. Although they were still Nie sect, they were definitely several leagues lower in quality to Mingi’s, fanciful embroidery absent and made out of a rougher, cheaper fabric. Perhaps he was like a servant the way some of the lowly-ranked Jin disciples were to Seonghwa, he mused. The Mingi he knew was certainly the type of character to refer to a servant as a friend.

“What is this?” Mingi asked as he held up a spoonful of the mushy food.

“The Lan sect is vegetarian.” Jeong Yunho said in a soft voice to his master. “Though exactly what it is… I couldn’t say.”

“I wonder if-”

“Talking during meal times is not permitted in the Cloud Recesses.”

Mingi blanched as a member of the Lan clan interrupted him. Seonghwa’s head shot up to watch as the man walked past them to sit on the other side of the table. His headband was different from that of the other disciples. Like Seonghwa’s vermillion mark flagged him a member of the Jin inner family, the man’s headband marked him a member of the Lan’s. Seonghwa tried not to roll his eyes.

Most of the meal passed in a boring silence, with both Mingi and Seonghwa trying their best to eat most of what was in front of them. The Jin disciples struggled similarly around them. Only Mingi’s servant seemed to tolerate the food as it entered his mouth.

The silence was unexpectedly broken after several minutes.

“But Yeosang hyung!” A male voice piped up from several tables away.

Seonghwa didn’t remember anyone called Yeosang in his group. Assuming it was a Nie, he looked up in the direction of the voice. But all the Nie disciples were also looking around curiously for the source of the outburst. At the end of one of the groups of Lan members sat three young men. One of them was sitting with wide eyes, clearly being cowed by the death glares a few members of his own sect were giving him, and he shrank down in embarrassment. His headband matched the one Seonghwa knew to be that of a relative of the Lan clan leader. How unbecoming of a member of the Lan family to break such a doubtlessly obvious rule, Seonghwa thought with amusement. The person sitting next to him, likely the “Yeosang hyung”, was also looking similarly embarrassed. The last man had his back turned to Seonghwa, but even from a distance his annoyance with the rule breaker was obvious as he held a hand up to his forehead.

“That must be Lan San.” Jeong Yunho supplied heartily. Seonghwa inched closer toward him so he could make out the words being whispered to Mingi in the quiet hall.

“That makes sense.” Mingi nodded. Yunho met eyes briefly with Seonghwa before deferring his gaze down, but he must have registered the confusion in Seonghwa’s face, as he continued.

“Lan San is on the outskirts of the inner Lan family. Always acting up, according to the rumours. His older brother Lan Hongjoong is always trying to keep him in check, but it never works.”

“Last time I was here he cut my hair.” Mingi tutted. “No hard feelings, though! We were only five. My mother was so angry, but she didn’t make the Lan clan leader punish him because I had already cut his hair too in revenge.”

Seonghwa had never left Yanling as a child. He wondered briefly what it would have been like, being one of the more important children in a clan’s inner family and being sent back and forth between all the four major clans’ residences to form bonds and learn. He realised he didn’t even know the names of members of the other sects aside from the leaders, their wives, and their immediate relatives.

“Is Yeosang anyone important?” He chanced a whisper to Yunho.

The other man frowned. “I haven’t heard of him. He wears only an ordinary disciple headband. Likely a very far distant relative or an unrelated guest disciple, depending on his last name.”

Seonghwa nodded. Luckily, their exchanges appeared to have gone unnoticed in the hall, and Lan San and his two companions had also gone back to eating as normal. Seonghwa glanced at the man with his back turned to him. He looked shorter than Yeosang and San, but perhaps he was Lan Hongjoong? He watched the man reach for his cup of water and take a sip. Small, delicate hands wrapped around the cup. Surprisingly, the man’s white uniform was betrayed only by a flash of purple on his outermost finger. Seonghwa’s head cocked to the side in confusion as he squinted, but he was too far away to observe properly before the man’s hand disappeared to his plate in front of him again.

Did Seonghwa just see what he thought he’d seen? A member of the Lan sect, perhaps Lan Hongjoong, with a painted nail? He wouldn’t have thought members would be permitted to do such a thing. Even in Yanling it would be seen as strange for a man.

A low cough from Mingi at his side derailed his train of thought. He looked back down again at the still-unfinished Cloud Recesses meal in front of him, with the thought to tell one of the Jin disciples to head down to the nearby Caiyi Town later that day and smuggle in some  _ real _ food for him. Just because he had to learn like the Lans, and in a few days even dress like the Lans, didn’t mean he also had to eat like them.


	2. Chapter 2

The Jiang clan congregation arrived not long after lunch. Seonghwa left his circle of Jin clan disciples to watch as they arrived, but noted that none of the Jiang leader’s sons or daughters were in the group. It was only a small contingent of lesser members that greeted the Lan clan leader at the entrance to Cloud Recesses, with some minor cousins bowing to all. The Lan clan’s leader still rewarded them with a smile anyway, before she left to return to her private room to cultivate once more. The purple-clad sect members followed a more senior Lan disciple to what was doubtlessly their new quarters, glancing around all the while at the sights surrounding them. Many seemed curious about Seonghwa, some girls even giggled at him as they passed by.

Seonghwa tried not to preen as he watched them.

“Wow, the Yunmeng girls sure are pretty.” One of the younger Jin disciples whispered to his friend next to Seonghwa.

“As if you have a chance with any of them.” His friend scoffed.

“Don’t go near them.” Seonghwa told them with a roll of his eyes. “We will be in close quarters with them in this prison for an entire year. A long time to spend with a vexed ex-lover. Go to Caiyi Town if you fancy someone to warm a bed with.”

“But what if one fancied a wife?” The second disciple said.

“Our women are better.” Seonghwa said. “Men and women from the Yunmeng Jiang clan are ever-so uncouth and unrestrained. Just as the Lans are too uptight, they are too loose.”

“I suppose, young master…” The disciple said, though he sounded unsure, still.

_“Jongho-yah!”_ A voice called out from close to Seonghwa’s right ear. He had to restrain from flinching as Jeong Yunho flew into his vision, dashing past him towards the end of the line of Jiangs.

A disciple froze in place, a smile erupting from his face as he recognised Yunho.

“Yunho hyung!” He called. Seonghwa watched in surprise as the pair caught up to one another and hugged. The few Lan members lurking about watched on in surprise as well. Seonghwa would bet money on public displays of affection being against one of their thousands of rules as well. He watched as the pair began talking to one another closely as they followed the rest of the Jiang congregation. Perhaps they were related, somehow?

Shrugging a little, Seonghwa decided to leave.

“Young master? What will you be needing today?” A female disciple asked him as he turned around.

“Nothing.” He said. “Classes begin in three days. Don’t break any obvious rules, or you’ll have my father to answer to back home.”

The group of Jins nodded seriously. Seonghwa nodded back in approval. He had taken several steps away from his people before he remembered.

“Wait.” He said, gesturing towards the female disciple. She scurried up towards him like a loyal dog.

“Go to Caiyi Town today with some others and get me some food. Actual food. Meats.” He whispered to her. Her eyes widened.

“Of course, young master.” She said, and immediately turned on her heel to recruit a few other girls in her mission. Satisfied he’d have something delicious to eat by sundown, he left the group, resolving to explore every inch of the Cloud Recesses. At least he could kill a few hours of daylight in that time.

_Lanshi, Hanshi, Yashi,_ the names of the buildings he committed to his memory as he wandered the residence. It was entirely too soon before he realised he’d already been everywhere immediately obvious in the Recesses. Before long, he found himself wandering further and further away from the central areas. He ignored disciples of all clans as he went, and they kept their distance in turn. He did stop and bow to the senior disciples of the Lans as he passed by however, couldn’t have rumours surfacing that any son of Jin was impolite.

It was only an hour or so after he’d said goodbye to his clan’s disciples that he happened upon a small clearing with a pond behind one of the furthermost buildings. At first he was content to stand in silence, thoughts of his father’s words in his mind, before he realised he wasn’t alone.

“Come here, you evil fishy!” A familiar voice yelled out. Seonghwa stared disbelievingly at the scene played out in front of him. Nie Mingi sat on his knees in the muddy, unstable ground next to the pond, hands fumbling about in the water in front of him. Next to him stood Jeong Yunho, apparently having since left his Jiang friend’s side.

“Be careful.” Yunho laughed as he watched his master reach further and further into the pond.

“But I have to catch one, hyung!” Mingi said. “I’ll catch a big fish, just you wait. I’ll catch one, and I’ll cook it up tonight for you and your brother to eat! He’ll have to like me then, right?”

Yunho’s smile grew wider. “But Jongho already likes you. He told me himself. Besides, we can’t eat the fish within Cloud Recesses. It’s against the rules.”

_“Hyung!”_ Mingi whined.

Seonghwa couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The mud had seeped deeply into Nie Mingi’s robes, and his servant just _let it happen?_ And Mingi, the next in line for the Nie sect leadership, had called his _servant_ a hyung? Seonghwa’s head spun. Surely not everybody outside of the Jin sect was _insane?_

What’s worse, was that Mingi’s words had caused a blush to form on Yunho’s cheeks. The blush expanded to his nose, which also grew red as the man became oddly shy. Suddenly, Seonghwa wished desperately to be _anywhere_ else. He had no sooner turned to leave when Yunho crouched down (though, mercifully for Seonghwa’s heart, he’d made sure to keep his robes untouched by mud) and reached into the pond to gently encircle Mingi’s hands with his own. He lifted Mingi back up again, and didn’t release his master’s hands even when they were both upright. They were standing close to one another. Too close. Seonghwa couldn’t feel more like he was intruding on a _very_ private moment as he fled, red in the face.

His run quickly deescalated into a fast walk when he re-entered Cloud Recesses, but he did not stop walking until he had gone all the way back to the Jin’s quarters and into his room, shutting the door with a bit more force than he’d intended. His room looked a little different in the daytime, the closed window letting in a soft glow of natural light now that the sun had risen. He’d only seen the place the first time the night before, when they’d arrived after dinner and he’d gone to bed at the first possible moment, exhaustion from the long journey from Lanling having taken its toll. Something about watching Nie and his servant had made him feel deeply unsettled. An uneasy almost sick feeling washed over him and made him feel like he wanted to hide away in the room until after the sun set once more, plunging the world into a darkness much more comforting to him

But why, he didn’t know.

_Seonghwa,_

_I trust that you will do well in your studies in Gusu. Do not forget that you represent not only yourself, but also the entire clan whenever you leave Lanling. We are the most powerful and wealthy clan, but we will never be like the Wen clan of old and presume to be invincible. Do not let any actions you take damage our reputation._

_I have not sent you to study with the Lans without cause. Your brothers are busy with their own work. While they have proven the strongest at cultivation and night hunts, I know you have the sharpest mind despite your weaker body. Become acquainted with the disciples of other clans. See if you can find any that are dissatisfied with their ways, and convince the talented ones to come to us for tutelage. Foster a closer relationship to the Nie heir, and talk well about your cousin to him, he will need Nie’s favour when he inherits our clan leadership one day._

_But most importantly, the clan leader needs you to become close to Wen Wooyoung. This is the reason I must send you to Gusu. We know not why the Wen’s chose to let one of their own leave Yiling, but you must take advantage of this decision. Become close to him. If there are any signs he practices demonic cultivation, turn him over to the Lan clan immediately. They will claim to be too honourable to spy on him themselves, which is why the Jin clan must do what is right in order to protect the world from even the possibility of a resurgence of that foul cultivation. This is the most important task you have been given in your life, do not fail, or else._

_Jin Myunghun_

Seonghwa stared at the letter that had been given to him, reading and rereading the words his father had written. _Look out for dissatisfied discipes. Become close to Nie Mingi. Become close to Wen Wooyoung._

His body tensed with anxiety from where he sat on the bed. Wen Wooyoung hadn’t arrived yet. Surely he would by the following day, but what then? The Wen’s were nearly hunted to extinction over a century ago after they tried to take over the cultivation world by force. It was only through the actions of Wen Qionglin that they were able to restart their sect. For over a century they’d stayed inside the haunted Yiling Burial Grounds, scarcely leaving for anything. Rumour even had it that those few outsiders permitted into their home were never seen again. How was Seonghwa supposed to become close to this man and ensure that evil was not again growing within their world through his clan?

He reread the letter one last time before setting it alight with a burning spell. He should have done it earlier, he realised. The paper burned so brightly that it was reduced to a mere pile of ashes before it even hit the ground. He felt more grounded now, somehow. For the first time in his life he had a real _mission._ Something useful he could do for the Jin clan. Something he could contribute. Maybe he could become even more important to the sect leader than his brothers, who were always being lavished with praise for their sword fighting and strength. While Seonghwa had a golden core, he knew he could never match up to them if he ever were to duel them.

_But if I can prove Wen Wooyoung is using demonic cultivation, I won’t even have to._ He thought to himself. _No doubt the Wen clan has been doing evil this whole time. And I will prove it._

He stood, going once more to the bowl on his chest of drawers and checking his appearance. Satisfied, he left again. He couldn’t start on Wen Wooyoung yet, and Nie Mingi was… occupied (his stomach flipped strangely when he remembered the way Jeong Yunho looked at his master). But most of the disciples weren’t having classes for three more days as well, so he could make himself useful and case them out.

As he made his way around the Recesses once more, he viewed the Lan clan members with renewed attention. They mostly stuck to small groups, standing around next to footpaths and quietly whispering to one another, or just going from building to building doing who knew what. He wondered how he would approach them, and who he would approach. He suddenly wished he had a demeanor more like Nie Mingi, whom everyone seemed comfortable speaking with. Someone like him could probably get even a Lan to open up without trying. What a shame he wasn’t cunning enough to put that skill to much use.

Eventually, as he made his way around the Recesses once more, it was the sound of music that gave him pause. He realised he’d stumbled onto the Lan’s music cultivation practice rooms. He glanced at the names of the rooms he walked past, and peered at the occupants. Most didn’t notice him, playing their instruments with great concentration as an amalgamation of different scores clashed with one another in his ears as he went from room to room.

Music cultivation was what the Lan clan was most famous for, he knew. A few members of his own family practiced it as a hobby at home, but he’d never seen it performed seriously. Fighting spirits with a sword made far more sense than with a set of strings or a flute, in his mind anyway.

And the Lan’s music was very standard. Restrained, boring. Maybe beautiful to some, but Seonghwa wasn’t the type to linger long by the windows entranced by the Lan cultivation. It wasn’t soon after he’d dismissed the music that he heard the soft twangs of a strange melody sounding off in the distance. Curiosity piqued, he followed the noise to the end of the music building.

There, in a corner room, sat the same three Lan men that had captured his attention earlier in the day. Yeosang sat in one corner playing the flute. In the middle sat Lan San, though he played no instrument. He was half-draped over a table in a most un-Lan-like fashion, nose in a book. At the other end of the room, the third occupant let off note after note on his guqin, skilled hands moving expertly across the instrument. Hands that had strangely purple outermost fingers.

Lan Hongjoong’s eyes were closed, brow furrowed in concentration. Pearly white teeth were just visible as he bit his bottom lip. The song they played was nothing like that of the Lan clan, not akin to anything Seonghwa had ever heard playing in Lanling, either. It was something entirely new and foreign to his ears, somehow both chaotic and soothing at the same time. There was no cultivation power being pressed into the chords of Lan Hongjoong’s guqin, yet Seonghwa still felt as if he was being spiritually overpowered. His vision tunneled inwards. He stood transfixed to the ground outside the room, watching only Lan Hongjoong as he continued to play. The man’s expression never changed, never wavered. He only continued with his strange song that Seonghwa wanted to hear forever. How did it feel so familiar somehow, when he knew he had never heard such a thing before?

Lan Hongjoong possessed a devastatingly attractive face, with soft, clear skin. No imperfections to be found. He was like a doll. Something struck Seonghwa so suddenly that he felt certain that the other man had to be using some kind of magic. Every inch of the man’s face left Seonghwa feeling like he had already seen him before, a mere gaze of his hands strumming the guqin and Seonghwa felt certain he’d held them before. Certain… certain…

Seonghwa wanted the song to play forever.

“Dammit!” Yeosang burst out, putting the flute down. Lan Hongjoong’s eyes opened as his fingers froze, and Seonghwa couldn’t tear his eyes off him even if he tried as he regarded Yeosang.

“I told you it’s okay to keep playing even if you make a mistake.” Hongjoong’s velvety voice spoke. Somehow, Seonghwa was surprised by how deep the man’s voice was.

Hongjoong’s voice wasn’t even that deep. It was average. He didn’t know what he was expecting. Someone prettier than all the girls Seonghwa had ever remembered possessing a voice as deep as an ordinary man made something catch in his throat.

“It’s not just that.” Yeosang sighed. “Hyung, I know you like to try new things. But surely this is too much! It’s too difficult for us to play, why can’t we just practice something we already have composed for us?”

Hongjoong’s brow twitched with annoyance. This was something they’d argued about before.

“The score sounds so odd, Hongjoong hyung! Can’t you see that? It’s nothing like what Lans are supposed to cultivate with-”

“And so what?” Hongjoong shot back, fingers tensing at his sides. Seonghwa felt just as offended. Surely something was defective with Yeosang’s ears.

“Okay, okay.” Lan San spoke up, sitting up properly and placing his book back down. “I think that’s enough for today, yes? We still have a few days before classes. I’m going to go to Caiyi Town to buy some things.”

“Alcohol is prohibited in the Cloud Recesses!” Lan Hongjoong scowled immediately.

“Who said I was going to buy that?” Lan San replied indignantly. It was with Hongjoong’s raised eyebrow that he spoke up again. “Okay, fine! But I was only going to get one pot! Nobody will even notice. Lighten up, hyungie.”

Hongjoong gave him a long-suffering look for a time, before he deflated slightly, setting the guqin aside. “Fine. But be careful.”

“I’ll go with him.” Yeosang said, standing up. San followed in his wake excitedly, edging towards the door. Seonghwa felt he had already spent far too much time eavesdropping, and promptly turned and walked away from the building, an idea already forming in his head.


	3. Chapter 3

The sun was beginning to set by the time Lan San and Lan Yeosang entered Caiyi Town. Yeosang felt himself already begin to tire just from the walk from Cloud Recesses, but San only became more and more excitable as they went from store to store.

“Look, Yeosang hyung!” He exclaimed, tugging Yeosang along by the arm to a villager’s stall. “Aren’t these apples big?”

Yeosang gave a brief noise of affirmation, but said nothing. He was already beginning to regret his choice to follow his best friend into town. He should’ve known San would want to cart him all around Caiyi as if neither of them had ever been there before. San’s energy seemingly knew no limits.

“Young Master Lan!” The villager greeted enthusiastically. She was an old, slightly plump woman, and reminded Yeosang a little of his grandmother when she smiled. “Is it apples you want? Here, one for you free, and for your friend!”

San gasped, trying to reject the woman’s offering. But she insisted, and eventually San relented, bowing and thanking her profusely with a wide smile and kind eyes. The woman melted, holding her hand to her heart when the pair turned to leave.

“Gosh, I wish my grandsons were more like you! Such a lovely boy!” She remarked. San spluttered, clearly not knowing what to say. Yeosang rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t hold back the small smile that grew on his face from watching his friend.

San handed him a shiny red apple before biting into his own.

“They’re so delicious Yeosangie hyung! Just try!” A trail of juice rolled down the younger man’s chin as he chewed. Yeosang sighed with perhaps just a little disgust.

“I’ll eat mine later. But thank you.” He said, putting the apple into his bag. “Where to next?”

San’s eyes suddenly widened, the man considering his words.

Before long, San was taking him to several more stores, picking up all manner of random trinkets and toys.

“And we’ll get this too!” He declared, giving a few coins to one of the town’s vendors. In his hand was a smooth wooden spinning top. Yeosang raised an eyebrow.

“Aren’t you a little too old for that?”

San narrowed his eyes at his friend’s words. “Nobody’s too old for these. They’re cool, I’ll show you later!”

“Okay, but only if you buy me a pot of Emperor’s Smile.” Yeosang responded. San’s eyes lit up with mischief at the mere mention of Gusu’s most famous alcoholic beverage.

Together, the pair made their way to the vendor they both knew would be the best place to purchase the spirit in the town. Not that they bought it often, but there were always those in the town that would blab to others about Lan disciples purchasing the prohibited beverage. And given San’s status as an inner family member and higher ranked headband, he was one that caught a lot of attention. Not to mention his… more outgoing personality.

They stopped outside an alleyway behind an inn, looking around for villagers. Over the course of their shopping, the sun had disappeared behind the clouds, and the stars had begun to shine in the night sky. They would have to hurry back to Cloud Recesses to avoid curfew after this. The villagers were paying them little mind at the moment, nighttime darkening their white Lan robes just enough that they hopefully weren’t as obvious as they always were.

“Let’s go.” San said, gesturing to the alleyway. The vendor was just a few small side streets ahead. Yeosang nodded, following in his friend’s footsteps.

They weren’t far into the alley for long before Yeosang slowed, feeling suddenly like something was off. He glanced back at the lit up street behind them. It was empty. Very empty. He frowned, picking up his pace until he had caught up to his friend, turning to look at San.

“What’s wrong?” San asked with a twitch of worry in his eyes, reading his expression immediately.

“I don’t know.” Yeosang frowned. “Something-”

“Oh look, it’s the Lans!” A voice shouted from behind them. The pair froze, turning back around. A group of five, three men and two women, blocked their way out. Yeosang blanched, taking a step backwards before he heard a laugh come from his other side. On the path to the alcohol vendor stood a single man, with a large sword held in front of him, right hand placed on its hilt threateningly. San gasped, jumping closer to Yeosang. The pair inched back towards a wall as the group of six came closer. They all looked haggard, hair in large knots and clothes filled with stains and tears.

“Oh, so you do remember us after all, huh?” One of the women crossed her arms, glaring at the two. Yeosang snarled, grip tightening on his sword. He was more skilled at the flute than he was at sword fighting, but he wasn’t scared to defend the both of them. He gripped San’s waist, pulling him in closer as the man with his own sword edged further and further towards them.

“Yeah, I reckon they do.” The man sneered. “It’s Sannie’s fault we got kicked out of Cloud Recesses. You remember that don’t you?”

San flinched, as if cut by the man’s words. The normally talkative man had been rendered speechless.

“You lied about us.” The man said. “Said we were bullies.  _ Come on.  _ We were just the only ones that saw you for who you truly are.”

San shook like a leaf at Yeoang’s side as Yeosang desperately tried to look for a way out. But all six of them had some kind of sharp weapon in their hands. He couldn’t get both himself and San out of there without risking an injury. Maybe if he took down the man second to the left, he could-

“Pathetic!” The sword-bearing man shouted towards San as if in a drunken rage. “You’re pathetic! Weak. Simpering. Having to kiss everyone’s ass just so that they tolerate you. We knew it was all an act. Not even enough cultivation to be able to lift a sword. Unlike us.”

The man raised his weapon, unsheathing it inch by inch. Yeosang could feel his heartbeat in his ears and the tips of his toes.

“We all were stronger than you. More worthy. But  _ you _ were the one born with  _ that.” _ The man delivered a death glare to San’s headband. “And they believed you over us. They kicked us out. They shamed us. All because you and your pussy brother were the great-grandsons of somebody important.”

“He doesn’t even have a golden core!” One of the other men laughed, dagger pointing towards San.

“And what did we even do?” The sword-bearing man continued. “So what, maybe we took it a little too far? But it was your brother’s fault for running along to rescue you again. He interrupted us. And he deserved what he got. It’s only a shame we got interrupted so soon.”

Yeosang’s upper lip curled upwards at the man in fury. He gripped his sword hilt tightly, preparing to take it out and destroy the man in front of him.

A wave of red energy blasted through the alleyway. Both San and Yeosang flinched, heads darting around for the source. The group of men and women in front of them quickly collapsed, San crying out with surprise as they did. The pair looked at the pile of bodies in front of them in shock before a voice called out.

“They’re just sleeping.” A man said. He was sitting on the roof of the dwelling in front of them. He looked more curious than anything else. His appearance set off alarm bells in Yeosang’s mind. He was clad in robes of a deep crimson, with black accents, but he was too far away for Yeosang to discern any clan embroidery.

“How did you do that?” San called out to the man, expression filled with suspicion. The man rolled his eyes.

“It’s merely an extension of the body binding spell created by Lan Wangji, no need to worry yourselves.” He said. He stood up, sliding down the roof and onto the alleyway floor in front of him.

Up close, Yeosang could make out his face. He looked youthful. A teenager, or in his early twenties. His robes were made of a decent quality, but not obnoxiously so like you would find in the Jin clan. His hair was well-kept, in a high ponytail with a red ribbon tying it all together. On the collars and sleeves of his outer robes sat the embroidery of suns. San moved to try and separate himself from the wall and from Yeosang, but Yeosang didn’t let the more vulnerable man move an inch. San let out a small questioning noise.

The stranger turned to him at this, lips turning up into a smirk.

“I take it you already know who I am, then?” He said, regarding Yeosang as if he was bored.

“Wen Wooyoung.” Yeosang said. San gasped, eyes widening to take the crimson-clad man in.

“T-Thank you, Wen Wooyoung.” San stuttered. Yeosang looked at him in shock. San continued, despite this.

“Thank you for helping Yeosang hyung and I, um…”

“It’s no problem.” Wen Wooyoung replied. His cool gaze seemed to defrost rapidly as he regarded San.

Oh no. That wasn’t happening.

“San, let’s go.” Yeosang said, pulling San towards the exit. He eyed the collapsed bodies of the ex Lan disciples as he approached them.

“But what about Emperor’s Smile?” San whined. Yeosang looked at him incredulously.

“Are you serious?” San tutted at his response. Yeosang was keenly aware that the Wen clan member was watching them all the while. The two Lan disciples exchanged looks, San growing increasingly pouty.

“You are insane. Fine.” Yeosang relented, letting himself be pulled once more by San, this time deeper into the alleyway and towards Emperor’s Smile.

“Thanks again, Master Wen!” San called to the other man as they retreated. Yeosang didn’t turn around to see the Wen’s reaction, but whatever it was appeared to please San, as he had a soft smile on his face on the rest of the way to the vendor.

The pair was hurrying towards the Recesses by the time they’d smuggled their two pots of liquor into a bag.

“I can’t believe it! Wen Wooyoung!” San said as they walked.

“I know you like to be friendly with everybody, but don’t get close to him.” Yeosang warned. “He’s the first Wen to enter the cultivation world in a century, and we have no idea what they’re like. People say they still practice demonic cultivation, and that they sacrifice babies.”

“Oh come on, you don’t seriously believe that?” San responded. “The clans wouldn’t have allowed the Wen clan to settle in Yiling in the first place if they were doing that. Their founder was a good man.”

“Their founder was a Ghost General.” Yeosang reminded.

San shrugged. “We all have our flaws.”

“Haven’t you heard the prophecy?” Yeosang said. San groaned.

“You mean that stupid thing we told each other when we were kids?” He said.

“That one day, a demonic cultivator and descendant of the Wen clan would emerge and exact revenge on the other clans for his family. Jin, Nie, Jiang,  _ and _ Lan!”

“A fairytale.” San scoffed.

“Even so,” Yeosang continued. “Many still believe it. So becoming friends with him is a terrible idea. People will become suspicious of you.”

“But what if it’s like a self-fulfilling prophecy?” San countered. “What if, by coming to Cloud Recesses and being treated badly by all the clans, he goes crazy and then enacts revenge! He just needs a friend to save him from his dark path!”

“I’m not even going to respond to that.”

“That’s because you see that I’m right!”

Before long, they were at the gate.

“You only just arrived in time.” The sour Lan guard greeted them. She looked down at the bags in their hands, particularly San’s. “Open them, we need to inspect them.”

“No!” San whined. “Can’t you just let me go through just this once? You’re not anywhere near as strict with others as you are with me!”

San made a big show of resisting the tired woman’s hands, eventually relenting as she practically tore the bag open to see its contents.

“This is prohibited.” She said, holding up the wooden spinning top.

“Fine.” San groaned as he marched up the staircase and into the Recesses. The woman rolled her eyes at Yeosang.

“Just go.” She said.

San was giggling uncontrollably by the time they made it into the cluster of trees next to the disciples quarters. It was as if the altercation in the alleyway had never happened, Yeosang thought happily. Although he knew he had to tell Hongjoong of it tomorrow.

“I can’t believe it worked again!” San laughed, opening Yeosang’s bag for the coveted alcohol pots.

“Shame about your toy.” Yeosang said. San shrugged.

“A worthy sacrifice.” He said. “Once they find something prohibited, they never look for more. It’s their own fault for forbidding something so harmless.”

Yeosang couldn’t help but agree.


	4. Chapter 4

“I told you to get only one pot!” Hongjoong whispered furiously to the other two men.

“We did! One each!” San countered.

Seonghwa inched closer to the three Lan members from the edge of the section of trees. It was dark, he could only just make them out by the white reflecting on their robes.

“He won’t drink it all in one go, hyung, don’t worry.” Yeosang attempted to quell Hongjoong’s displeasure. “The guards don’t suspect anything.”

“Yeah, nobody suspects! We were sneaky and cunning!” San said.

“Is that so?” Seonghwa spoke. The three men’s eyes met the outline of Seonghwa instantly. Seonghwa couldn’t resist the opportunity. He raised his right arm, cultivating a small light at his side. It drained his spiritual energy slightly, but it was more than worth it to see the shocked faces of the Lans as they stared at him.

“What do you want?” Hongjoong said, moving to stand in front of the other two. Yeosang and San let him, even shrinking in on themselves slightly behind him. Seonghwa didn’t know what they had heard about him, but whatever information they had seemingly wasn’t something favourable.

Seonghwa tore his eyes away from Hongjoong’s, and glanced down at the pots of Emperor’s Smile in the other men’s hands. Hongjoong watched him, and as they met eyes again the oldest Lan’s jaw set. He was almost challenging Seonghwa to say something. And Seonghwa certainly would.

“Alcohol is forbidden here, isn’t it?” Seonghwa said, adopting a mockery of a lighthearted tone. “I’m only new here, but I’m sure the punishment for breaking such a rule is severe. You Lans don’t seem the type to grant any more mercy to those in the inner family, either.”

“What do you want, Jin?” Hongjoong said, eyes narrowing.

“It’s Master Jin Seonghwa.” Seonghwa responded. “And as someone studying under Madam Lan, I surely feel obliged to turn you in, unfortunately.”

“No, please!” San cried out. “I don’t want the beating again!”

At his words, Seonghwa almost paused. The Lan clan still does _beatings?_

“Please, Master Jin.” Hongjoong said, much more diplomatically. His lips were a thin line, as if he had to force the words out. “Surely there’s… some way we can get you to reconsider?”

Seonghwa tried not to smile, but a twinkle of amusement must seep out of him anyway because the sleeves of Hongjoong’s robes shook slightly at his sides. His hands must be in fists.

“I’ll stay quiet. On one condition.”

Hongjoong regarded him for a moment. “What condition?”

“You promise to do something for me, Lan Hongjoong.”

San and Yeosang exchanged nervous looks as a scowl twisted up Hongjoong’s beautiful features.

“What…” Hongjoong trailed off.

“What do you want me to do?” He tried again.

Seonghwa pursed his lips, as if in thought. Hongjoong’s eye twitched at the reaction, but he still waited for Seonghwa to speak again.

“You will find out later.”

Seonghwa couldn’t resist. Really. San and Yeosang’s glares only grew at his words, and Yeosang looked so cross Seonghwa wouldn’t be surprised if the man started snarling like a dog. Hongjoong went still as he considered Seonghwa’s words.

“Fine. I promise.” Hongjoong accepted. Immediately, the word brought protests from his brother and friend, but he seemingly paid them no mind as he glared at Seonghwa.

“Good.” Seonghwa grinned.

“But hyung! You don’t even know what he wants!” San began, as Seonghwa retreated, extinguishing the small ball of light at his side as he went.

Anyone that saw Jin Seonghwa on his way back to his quarters would wonder what had happened that had caused the usually surly cultivator to have a slight spring in his step.

\----------

A few days later, a much more displeased Jin Seonghwa exited those same quarters. Surely to those in Lanling he would be unrecognisable. White Lan clothes covered his body, and his hair was in a much simpler high ponytail as opposed to the more intricate knots he normally favoured.

He had to try not to verbalise his annoyance to the other Jins as they all emerged from their quarters in turn. The first day of classes meant the first day they would have to don the same clothing as the Gusu Lan disciples, minus the headbands. Seonghwa tried not to feel like he was going to a funeral as he made his way to the food hall for breakfast, but the clothes really made him feel like a grieving widow.

The disciples were instructed to head to the Lanshi after breakfast. The Lanshi was one of the larger buildings in the Recesses, and served as a classroom to the larger cohorts of the Lan sect. There they would have the majority of their lessons, along with a group of Lan clan disciples. Seonghwa looked around him for any unfamiliar faces as he made his way there. By now, he had memorised the looks of all of the disciples from all the clans. Wen Wooyoung, it seemed, hadn’t come to Cloud Recesses after all. He tried not to think of the implications of this, but dark thoughts crept into his mind regardless. Thoughts about having already failed before he could even try.

The thoughts swirling in his head came to a sudden stop as he spied a certain someone pause outside the classroom doors. He was delighted to watch as Lan Hongjoong recognised him, and scowled as he made his way to his seat at one of the tables inside. Seonghwa smiled as he sat down at his own. Hongjoong and the other two rule-breaking Lans sat at the other end of the classroom to Seonghwa and the mixed smattering of other Jins, Nies, and Jiangs, but Seonghwa continued to watch the back of Hongjoong’s head as more disciples trickled in. Eventually, Hongjoong turned around and met his eyes angrily, as if Seonghwa had burned a hole into his back with his gaze.

Seonghwa sent him a devilish grin. Lan Hongjoong’s hands sized up in his lap, and he turned away. He didn’t look at Seonghwa again.

Seonghwa only pried his eyes away from the other man to look at the Jin clan disciple sitting next to him. The man placed down the gift box with great care at his side. Madam Lan entered the Lanshi not long after the teacher arrived, and all the disciples stood immediately to bow before her. Seonghwa signalled to the disciple at his side after she welcomed them once more, about to move to the middle aisle to present before the door to the classroom unexpectedly opened.

There, at the front entrance, stood a young man. Fiery crimson lit up the man’s robes, black sun embroidery a dark contrast to the colour lighting up his sleeves. The man smiled unassumingly at the class full of staring disciples. There was no doubt as to who he was.

“Wooyoung of Wen.” Madam Lan greeted. She was a kind, yet somehow still severe looking old woman, Seonghwa had thought not long after first meeting her. She and Wen Wooyoung exchanged bows before Wooyoung marched up to the aisle towards her. He stopped before her, bowing once more, before pulling a small wooden box out of his robes.

The tension in the air was palpable as Madam Wen took the box into her hands and opened it. Seonghwa had to strain his neck to see the item she removed from it. It was a long fabric trinket, blue in colour and similar to the ones Seonghwa had seen pinned on the outer robes of Lan clan members.

“A gift from Madam Wen.” Wen Wooyoung said. “As thanks for accepting me as a student of the Lan clan. It has a series of protective spells on it, Madam Wen designed it herself for Madam Lan.”

Whispers broke out instantly at his words. Even some of the Lan disciples broke their own rules as they inched closer to one another to exchange words.

“Is the Wen clan led by a woman, too?” The Jin disciple next to him questioned.

“No way can Madam Lan carry such a thing.” The words of a scandalised Jiang woman travelled across the aisles. “This is surely a trick! Some evil curse must be placed upon it!”

Whispers of similar sentiment travelled the length of the Lanshi. To his credit, Wen Wooyoung’s expression didn’t falter. Out of the corner of Seonghwa’s eye, Jeong Yunho shifted uncomfortably in his seat from a stray whisper Seonghwa was too far away from to decipher.

Eventually the murmurs settled, and Madam Lan graciously thanked the Wen.

“But I expect to see you in proper uniform tomorrow.” She told him.

“Of course, Madam Lan. I apologise for the late intrusion.” Wen Wooyoung said, before making his way to the back of the classroom to the only empty seat.

At that moment, Madam Lan turned to regard Seonghwa. Seonghwa jolted slightly before he and the disciple next to him strode to the front. They bowed, the disciple doubly so before placing the gift box in Madam Lan’s hands.

Inside the box was a set of gold tea cups. Madam Lan blinked once in surprise, but was otherwise expressionless.

“Made from the finest materials in Lanling, sent personally by sect leader Jin. He sends his kind regards, as well as gratitude to the Gusu Lan clan for allowing us disciples to study under the Lan clan.” Seonghwa recited.

Nie Mingi and Jeong Yunho were next, presenting the Lans with some antique pot from Qinghe. Seonghwa had already zoned out by the time the Jiang representatives had made it to the front of the classroom to give their gift. It felt like a physical effort to not glance backwards towards Wen, so he settled on more staring at Lan Hongjoong.

After Madam Lan left, the lesson began proper. Seonghwa slumped slightly on his cushion as the Lan teachers booming voice filled the classroom. He began with a recitation of the five thousand Lan clan rules that Seonghwa knew to be inscribed on a mountainside in the Recesses, and by rule four hundred Seonghwa wished he could rest his head in his hands.

_“...Do not be picky about food. Have a proper posture. Do not be overly happy. Do not be overly sad. Do not be over-the-top. Do not use bad words to hurt others. Do not break promises. Do not form cliques ...”_

By the time the lecture ended, the Jin, Jiang, and Nie sect disciples almost ran out of the Lanshi. Seonghwa looked around as he left the building, but Wen Wooyoung had disappeared in the time it took for him to get past the throng of people.

“Master Jin.” Mingi said, approaching him. Unsurprisingly, Jeong Yunho shadowed him. “Let’s spend some time together after we eat! If I have to spend one more minute around these Lans I’ll jump off this mountain!”

“Of course.” Seonghwa said. “But Mingi, call me Seonghwa hyung.”

Mingi brightened considerably at his words.

“Okay, Seonghwa hyung! Call me Mingi.” He grinned.

Mingi and his servant disciple together took him to a nearby cliff top outside the Cloud Recesses. From there Seonghwa got a good view of the surrounding countryside. If he squinted, he could make out Caiyi Town in the distance, as well as the odd farmhouse. It was… peaceful. Nice. The rushing of a nearby stream sounded in the background.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Mingi said.

Seonghwa let out a noise of agreement, but couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable as he kept an eye on the two men in his periphery. He knew they wouldn’t do anything… _like that_ in front of another person, but still…

Delicate hands with stained nails surface in his mind’s eye. He shook his head, trying to chase away the slow, strange realisation he was beginning to have.

On the mountainside, he and Nie Mingi talked about both everything and nothing. Mingi’s younger sister was engaged to a fellow disciple, and Mingi expected her to be wed not long after he returned. His father was still in good health. It was a surprising fact, though Seonghwa had the tact to keep it to himself. Nearly every Nie leader died from Qi deviation due to their method of cultivation, but Mingi’s father seemed to have turned out one of the luckier ones.

In turn, Seonghwa told Mingi about his older brother’s latest night hunt victories, as well as the everyday goings-on in Lanling.

“My cousin Yonghwan took down a vengeful spirit a few moons ago.” Seonghwa supplied. “The foul thing had taken the lives of half a village. He showed great bravery and skill, I’m told.”

Mingi let out an impressed noise.

“Wow.” He said. “I had no idea he was such a powerful cultivator.”

“For any skill I have, it surely pales in comparison to Jin Yonghwan.” Seonghwa said. Yunho watched them quietly in the background, and Seonghwa tried not to feel scrutinised by the man’s unflinching gaze.

Eventually, they had to return to the Recesses for afternoon classes, which proved equally as soul-crushingly boring as the one in the morning. The constant blank looks of the Lans made more and more sense the longer Seonghwa stayed there. It was a wonder disciples like Lan Hongjoong and Lan San even had personalities at all besides single-toned recitings of the Lan rules after any minor infraction.

The bright sun had disappeared behind the mountains, and Seonghwa still could not find Wen Wooyoung anywhere. He signed, leaning against a railing off the edge of one of the Recess’ courtyards. Given the proximity to curfew, the normally busy area was deserted.

_Likely hiding in his quarters._ He thought, remembering the reactions of the rest of the disciples when Wen Wooyoung presented Madam Lan with his clan’s gift. Seonghwa frowned. Without knowing where he was staying, Seonghwa couldn’t even introduce himself to him. He stood back up straight again, with a thought to return to the other Jin disciples in their quarters before suddenly a white blur sped towards him.

Lan Hongjoong held a determined look as he approached Seonghwa, moonlight encasing his head in a pretty halo from where Seonghwa was standing.

“What is it you want?” Hongjoong asked. No, demanded. Seonghwa looked to him in surprise. He hadn’t been expecting this. The moonlight made the white robes Hongjoong wore almost glow. The centre of the Lan headband around his forehead would’ve glinted if there was a surface for it to reflect upon.

Seonghwa tutted.

“Do not be impatient.” He said.

Hongjoong stared, a delicate eyebrow inching upwards.

“It’s one of the Lan rules.” Seonghwa continued. _“Do not be impatient._ Goodness Young Master Lan, were you not paying attention in class today?”

Hongjoong let out an exasperated noise, stamping his foot on the ground. Seonghwa’s mind reeled as he watched him.

“You said you would tell me later. Now it’s later. I want to know what it is.” Hongjoong demanded once more.

“You’re so eager.” Seonghwa observed. “A little dangerous, don’t you think? What if it was something _unsavory_ that I wanted from you.”

Hongjoong scoffed. A sound most unfitting for a Lan. He was more like his brother than he seemed.

“Surely a Jin family member wouldn’t force another person to act in any unsavory way.” He said.

Seonghwa took a step towards him.

Hongjoong looked at him with alarm. He moved as if to step back, but stopped, seeming to reconsider. He stood still as a statue as Seonghwa came closer, only stopping when Seonghwa was close enough to begin to feel traces of the other man’s body heat.

Seonghwa hadn’t seen Lan Hongjoong in such close quarters. The bridge of his nose, the length of his eyelashes, the extent of his cupid’s bow. All were so close.

“Who said anything about forcing?” Seonghwa said, voice quiet and low.

Secretly, he had no idea what he was doing. It was as if some strange, repressed part of him had come out and filled him to the brim. It _wanted._ Wanted…

Hongjoong swallowed, and Seonghwa watched his adam’s apple move with the action.

“I’d make you like it.”

With those words, a dam seemed to break within Hongjoong. The man let out an outraged gasp, pushing Seonghwa away with enough force that had the taller man stumbling back. Hongjoong’s face had gone beet red, and he stared wide-eyed at the ground beneath him as if he was expecting it to swallow him whole.

Seonghwa burst out laughing. He had to cover his mouth with his hand as he struggled to contain his mirth.

“You are the worst!” Hongjoong said, cursing, before turning on his heel and leaving.

Seonghwa didn’t stop laughing all the way to the Jin’s quarters.


	5. Chapter 5

It took Seonghwa almost a full week before he managed to catch Wen Wooyoung alone. The man wasn’t as striking in the Lan robes compared to that of his own, but all the other disciples still scurried away at the sight of him, regardless. Even Nie Mingi hadn’t yet approached him.

The man was sitting on the edge of the Lanshi’s front landing. His feet didn’t touch the stone floor beneath, Seonghwa realised, only swayed slightly in the breeze. It was an interesting realisation, one Seonghwa was admittedly slightly embarrassed to have. The man’s mysterious aura seemed to add size to him that he otherwise would not possess. Wooyoung watched Seonghwa as he approached, eyes surely not missing the vermillion mark that Seonghwa religiously applied each morning.

“Young Master Wen.” Seonghwa greeted, bowing formally. To his surprise, the other man stood, feet landing with a gentle thud on the stone floor below as he bowed back.

“Young Master Jin.” He said, eyes politely settling on the floor at Seonghwa’s feet for a moment as his upper half tilted forward.

_ Well, of course Wen would bow back, _ Seonghwa thought to himself. He was still a member of a great clan. Technically. If one ignored the past hundred years or so.

Nobody yet knew just where in the line of the Wen ascension Wen Wooyoung stood. If the information was divulged to anyone, it surely would have been the other clan leaders, but they remained tight-lipped.

“I apologise,” Seonghwa began. “For not having introduced myself yet. This first week of classes has left such little time for bonding with those of other clans.”

“Of course.” Wooyoung said. “It has been much the same for me.”

The other man seemed to study every detail of Seonghwa. His cool eyes felt almost piercing. Seonghwa kept his face carefully passive and pleasant. He had seen such looks since he was a child in Yanling. Wen Wooyoung would take much from this first interaction. Every little twitch, every microexpression would be filed away for later use. Seonghwa knew his type.

“I noticed you haven’t acquainted yourself with many others thus far.” Seonghwa said carefully. “I would have surely struggled equally, had my fellow Jin disciples not been at my side. Let me be your first friend here.”

Wen Wooyoung’s face remained guarded. He cocked his head to the side every so slightly, intense stare not letting up. After a few moments, he seemed to relax, posture loosening.

“That would be good.” Wooyoung said. “Thank you, Young Master Jin.”

“Call me Seonghwa,” Seonghwa said, cautiously pleased.

The man nodded. “Call me Wooyoung.”

Critical eyes still gazed upon Seonghwa, leaving him wondering still whether he’d passed or failed the test.

Soon, the pair sat together on the edge of the Lanshi landing, though Wooyoung had opted for cross-legged, this time. A few wandering disciples gawked as they passed by, but Seonghwa paid them little mind. He hoped any friendship with Wen Wooyoung wouldn’t decay his chances of getting close to any others at Cloud Recesses, but he knew what his most important goal was.

“What do you make of your time here?” Seonghwa asked. Wooyoung mulled over the words for a few seconds.

“It’s interesting.” He responded. “I had been warned of the Lan clan’s extensive rules, but I did not realise the scale of it until after I arrived. I was supposed to arrive a few days earlier, but I became rather held up in Caiyi Town, unfortunately.”

“Not much time to acclimate.” Seonghwa said. Wooyoung agreed.

Seonghwa asked him several more questions, though mindfully avoiding any subject related to the other man’s clan. What did he think of the content of the classes? Were there any rules he greatly agreed or disagreed with? What of the Lan’s cuisine?

Wooyoung’s scrunched up nose alone was an adequate answer for that last question.

Every time the man opened his mouth, Seonghwa noticed he became more and more evasive, as if he already regretted opening up as much to Seonghwa as he had. Seonghwa decided to risk his luck on one final question.

“Have any of the other disciples caught your eye?”

At those words, the other man’s eyes travelled to a place in the distance. Seonghwa followed them. Further along the stone pathway, maybe a few dozen dozen meters away from them, sat a small group of Lans on the floor. One of them was distinctive. Not only with his headband, a cloud shape occupying the centre of his forehead when the others only had a plain white, but in the way the Lans positioned themselves around him. He was in the centre of a circle, hands flying about animatedly as he spoke. He was too far away for his words to be decipherable, but the expressions of the others were a mix of amusement, annoyance, and perhaps some fondness. A week ago, Seonghwa would’ve thought them all to be stony-faced all the time. But by now he’d spent enough time around the Lans to see through their permanent blankness to find that most of them had their own uniquely  _ Lan _ expressions.

Except for a few, whose emotions they still wore on their sleeves despite everything.

“Lan San?” Seonghwa said. His eyes met with the man sitting next to him. Wen Wooyoung didn’t respond, so Seonghwa spoke again.

“I’ve met him before, but only once.” Seonghwa said. “He’s a surprisingly mischievous man. An ordinary one, I’ve heard. No ability to cultivate.”

Seonghwa felt a twinge of sympathy for Lan San as he spoke the words.

“But he appears well-liked enough in his clan. Despite regularly getting up to no good. You know, I caught him and another disciple sneaking prohibited goods into the Recesses! Very strange for a Lan of his age.”

Wooyoung inched closer to him the more he spoke. Seonghwa’s pride swelled at the victory. The man was guarded, but Seonghwa could tell he was hanging onto his every word.

“What do you know of his brother?” Wooyoung said. Seonghwa paused. A man with a moonlight halo encircling him flashed before his eyes. Rosy red cheeks, with brows pinched and hands clenched in outrage…

“Have you noticed his hands?” Wooyoung’s words sent Seonghwa immediately back down to the present.

“Lan Hongjoong’s hands?” He asked, giving the other man a quizzical look.

“I couldn’t help but notice them the other day.” Wooyoung said. “I’ve seen some farmers get such injuries. An injured nail bed or two after something heavy falls onto it. But it’s strange that it’s both of his pinky fingers that have such an injury, and not two fingers closer together. What could cause that?”

Seonghwa’s heart stuttered in his chest. Most of his mind was immediately occupied by the cooling of his blood as he thought back to Hongjoong’s hands the way he’d seen them for the first time. Small and dainty, yet somehow expertly still managing to string out a song on the long guqin. The rest of it was struck by Wen Wooyoung’s childish use of the word ‘pinky’.

“I assumed...” He had to clear his throat with a wince as his once smooth voice came out slightly raspy. “...that was some sort of paint.”

Wooyoung shook his head. “No. Definitely from an old injury. Curious, isn’t it?”

The man’s expression suddenly changed, one side of his lips lifting upwards in a smile that Seonghwa felt unsettled by. It seemed like it was Seonghwa’s turn to be scrutinised.

_ But he couldn’t know that I… _

“Anyway,” Seonghwa burst out. “I should be going. I promised one of my disciples I would help her with her sword stance this afternoon.”

“Of course. It was nice to meet you, Seonghwa.” Wooyoung said.

Seonghwa bowed formally once more before departing.

Lan Hongjoong doesn’t leave his mind the entire way to the music rooms. In the same place as earlier, he catches Hongjoong strumming on the guqin, playing a similar song to the one he had overheard the first time. As luck would have it, Hongjoong was alone.

Seonghwa stood at the door he had opened silently for a moment. The same breeze that moved Wen Wooyoung’s legs was blowing in through an open window, causing Hongjoong’s hair to sway. His hair was mostly down today, strands kept out of his face by a smaller knot tied atop his head, a simple clasp holding it together. Smooth, inky black cascaded down his back, shoulders, and front. The man paused in his playing when he noticed Seonghwa.

Seonghwa took a few steps into the room, closing the door behind him as he went.

“What is it?” Hongjoong said, looking at him like him like he was no more than a persistent fly buzzing around him.

“Your hands.” Seonghwa said. Hongjoong removed his fingers from the guqin, hiding them back underneath his robes as he rested them on the low table in front of him.

“What happened to them?” Seonghwa asked softly, almost as if he was speaking to a frightened deer.

Hongjoong’s glare grew. “Why should I tell you? Why is that any of your business?”

Seonghwa pictured a younger, plumper-faced little Hongjoong, screaming in pain as a cart rolled over his hands. Or perhaps a slightly older, teenage Hongjoong, still awkward and growing in body, falling with a shout from a horse.

Hongjoong’s hands still possessed dexterity, given his skill for playing the instrument in front of him. Whatever it was, it was not from a cart or a horse. Seonghwa barely knew the man, but for some reason a thought about a Hongjoong somewhere, in another world, with broken, unusable hands struck him off-guard… he didn’t like thinking about that.

“Would you go away if I told you?” Hongjoong said. Seonghwa’s attention zeroed in on the contemplative shift to the man’s gaze.

“If I tell you, I’ll count it as that thing you asked of me.” Hongjoong said, lips pursing and jaw jutting out.

Seonghwa let out a noise of amusement, walking further into the room. For some reason, Hongjoong looked more quizzical than angry as Seonghwa took a seat on the pillow Lan Yeosang sat in last time. He leaned an elbow on the table in front of him as he turned his body towards Hongjoong. His hand met the side of his head as he eyed Hongjoong in a slouch.

“Play for me.” He said.

Big, soft eyes blinked at him a few times from below the Lan headband, as if Hongjoong had suddenly forgotten how to understand the human tongue.

“Play for me, and it’ll be the favour.” Seonghwa elaborated.

Hongjoong blanches.

“That’s it? Really?” He balked. “Nothing else? You don’t want me to tell you Lan secrets? Make me sneak in alcohol for you? Or- or….”

Hongjoong swallowed as his cheeks dusted with pink.

“No. Play me the music you were playing before. One of those songs that sounds different.” Seonghwa spoke in a flat tone. Hongjoong met his eyes again, confusion still creasing his brow.

“For how long?”

“Until I say so. Play.”

With that command, Hongjoong slowly reached his hands back onto the guqin.

Soon, the music room was filled once again with the strings of that strange, melodic music. Seonghwa was captivated. Now that had been awarded closer proximity to Hongjoong, he could clearly make out the colour of his nails now. Wen Wooyoung hadn’t been wrong. What he had thought of was paint truly was just bruise-coloured scars that took up entire nail beds. Seonghwa didn’t like looking at them, though he knew they would cause no pain. Only displayed the past remnants of it.

Time passed faster than Seonghwa expected. Eventually, Hongjoong relaxed next to him, eyes closing in concentration as he slowly let his guard down. He seemed to forget Seonghwa was there. A few times he stopped after a mistake, before checking something in a book next to him. He would return to the guqin quickly after, acting for all the world as if Seonghwa didn't exist.

Seonghwa’s stomach eventually began to ache, though it was still some hours before dinner. He had decided against finishing his entire serving of plain, sad tofu earlier that day. It was with that in mind that fished into his robes for a small pouch. Opening it, he took out the dried meat happily, nibbling on it as he continued to listen to the music.

Only the music stopped.

“What is that?” Hongjoong demanded unhappily. Seonghwa froze up when he saw a pout on the other man’s lips

“Pig?” Seonghwa guessed. He didn’t remember a rule prohibiting eating in the music rooms, but it sounded natural that there would be one. He still held out a piece of the meat to Hongjoong regardless, and Hongjoong flinched.

“Be kind to all things. That’s a Lan rule.” Hongjoong said.

“You can’t be serious.” Seonghwa drawled.

Hongjoong just looked more unhappily at the piece of meat.

“So you’re saying,” Seonghwa began slowly, “that if this was a carrot, you’d be happier?”

Hongjoong sighed. “I guess so.”

Seonghwa placed the meat back inside the pouch. Wordlessly, he closed the thing and threw it out the window behind Hongjoong’s head.

“What?” Hongjoong spluttered as he watched it. The pouch landed with a low thud in the outside garden.

“I won’t eat it.” Seonghwa stated the obvious. Hongjoong looked more guarded now, as if he thinks Seonghwa is making fun of him. The look causes Seonghwa to speak again.

“I’m in Cloud Recesses.” He said. “It was wrong of me to bring it in. I won’t eat animals again.”

Hongjoong gave him a long look, but the sincerity on Seonghwa’s face wasn’t fake. He must realise this, for he eventually nodded approvingly and began to play again.

It is a slightly happier Hongjoong that continues to play the guqin until dinner. Seonghwa still likes Hongjoong the best when he’s angry, he thinks. When the flush envelops Hongjoong’s cheeks like it did the last time they met. When Hongjoong stomps on the ground like a child, when Hongjoong swallows nervously at his words.

But he thinks he enjoys this Hongjoong, too.


	6. Chapter 6

Lan San steeled himself as he tapped loudly on the door in front of him. After a few moments, the sound of soft footsteps betrayed the silence as it slowly opened.

Wen Wooyoung’s eyes widened as he watched the visitor through the gap in the door. San pushed forward, causing the other man to stumble back slightly as he forced his way inside. San closed the door behind him, though not without a nervous glance at the stone path outside, as if a Lan night guard was going to emerge from the treeline to catch him out. As he turned back around, he noticed Wooyoung was out of his white Lan clothes, wearing only a thin layer of red that he likely only slept in.

“Lan San?” Wooyoung remarked. “It’s past curfew, isn’t it? Why are you here, in my room?”

“I know what you did.” San’s voice filled the room. “You know, I’m not as stupid as I look! I read things!”

“Keep your voice down.” Wooyoung cut him off. He tried to school his features into impassiveness, but San could tell he was nervous.

San moved further into the room, spying a small table in the middle of it. He sat before it, and Wooyoung hesitantly followed.

“That ‘body-binding spell’ you did.” San said. Wooyoung’s eyes glinted at the words. “It wasn’t the one created by Lan Wangji.”

“How would you know?” Wooyoung said. San felt a curl of annoyance grow in his chest at the other man’s dismissiveness.

“It was demonic cultivation. I know it.”

Wooyoung sniggered, leaning back and covering his lower face as the corner of his eyes crinkled in mirth. The annoyance in San grew until his eyes narrowed in a glare.

_“Demonic cultivation.”_ Wen Wooyoung snorted. “Sure it was.”

The man was suddenly a far cry from the cool, bored looking rescuer he was the first time San saw him.

“Stop laughing!” San cried. He wasn’t expecting this, for Wooyoung to look at him like San was a dumb child. “I studied the spell! I even went into the Room of Hidden Books. You would’ve needed a sleeping spirit to help you do that. That’s what that flash of red was. Drawing out a spirit to help you makes it demonic cultivation by definition.”

Wooyoung had slowly stopped laughing over the course of his accusations, but no trace of concern had entered his face. He inched a little closer to San from across the table, and San leaned away instinctively.

“You are clever.” Wooyoung said, voice contemplative. Instead of looking nervous, or murderous at San for figuring it out, he just looked impressed. “And what do you intend on doing about it?”

“What?” San said, surprised at the boldness of his words.

“Well, if you figured out I was doing demonic cultivation,” Wooyoung mulled. “Then why would you come to me about it, in my quarters, all alone at night? With no sword, or anything else you could defend yourself with?”

“I could have a secret dagger! You don’t know.” San informed him. Wooyoung smirked at his words.

“If you were truly going to do something about it, you would have gone to Madam Lan, or a senior disciple.” Wooyoung said, not deigning to give San’s last words a response.

San bit his lip. Wooyoung watched him quietly, waiting for him to speak.

“I don’t have a golden core.” San confessed. Wooyoung didn’t react to the words. He had probably overheard what the ex disciples were saying that night in the alleyway. Either that or heard it from another disciple in the week he’d been at the Recesses. It wasn’t exactly a secret.

“I’m in the Lan family, but I never got a golden core. I can barely lift a sword, or cast a spell.” San continued. “I’m useless, and Hongjoong hyung and Yeosang hyung always used to run around protecting me from people who bullied me when we were younger.”

“Those people in Caiyi?” Wooyoung asked, voice going soft. San was relieved the man didn’t seem like he would make fun of him for this. San’s throat already felt tight, embarrassment causing his face to heat up.

“I thought… because they were gone… that I wouldn’t have to worry anymore…” San struggled to get the words out, hating that he was bearing his heart like this to a stranger.

“If you hadn’t… if you hadn’t been there to help Yeosang hyung and I… I don’t know what would’ve happened. I pretended to Yeosang hyung like everything was fine, because I didn’t want him to worry. But what if he’d gotten hurt because of me?” San shook his head at even the thought.

His pretty Yeosang hyung, getting himself injured once again to protect weak, pathetic San? San hated it. Yeosang deserved to wear the Lan family headband. Not San. Yeosang was strong, and powerful, and more attractive. San was _weak._

“Demonic cultivation…” Wooyoung began. San watched him with helpless eyes as he spoke.

“It’s founder was rumoured to have lost his own golden core.” With Wooyoung’s words, it seemed he already knew the question that was going to be on San’s lips. “He was a close friend of the man that restarted our sect, over a century ago. And it is only through demonic cultivation that those without cores can practice magic.”

San met his gaze, determined.

“Teach me how you did it.”

\------------------------------------------------------------

It’s over two hours after breakfast by the time the final Lan leaves the kitchens. Seonghwa smiles, a thrill running through his veins as he sneaks in through the door. He scours the kitchen storage shelves, humming happily when he finds trays of tofu and vegetables.

It was over four hours past breakfast before he left the kitchens, trying his best to look nondescript as he made his way back through the Recesses. People looked at him curiously as he passed them, a sealed wooden box in hand, but they said nothing.

Seonghwa found out early on in life that there was a surprising number of things you could get away with as long as you acted nonchalant.

He finds Hongjoong where the man had told him he would be that day. Hongjoong clearly wasn’t expecting Seonghwa to find him there, and Seonghwa had to work to convince him to budge from his seat in the library pavilion. For some reason, something about Hongjoong seemed off when he approached. His robes were slightly rumpled, and his hair looked just shy of frazzled, like he’d been ringing his fingers through it earlier. Seonghwa’s eyebrow raised in curiosity, but he approached nonetheless.

“Come on.” He said. “Don’t you remember our agreement?”

“But I’m busy.” Hongjoong shot back. “Now isn’t the time for practice-”

“Practice is when I say it is.” Was Seonghwa’s haughty reply.

“Excessive talking is not permitted in the library pavilion.” An old Lan man told them crossly, looking disapprovingly at Hongjoong in particular from a nearby desk. Hongjoong shrank down, cowed by the words.

Seonghwa gave him an impatient look from over the wooden box, refusing to move from his place in front of the other man. Hongjoong rolled his eyes, but eventually got up. The practice room Hongjoong seemed to claim as his own (well, Seonghwa assumed, Lan Yeosang and Lan San were the only other disciples who ever went near it) wasn’t too far from the library. Soon, Hongjoong was in front of his guqin again, though he didn’t move to play it just yet.

“What’s that you have?” Hongjoong eyed the box as Seonghwa put it down on the table in front of him. Seonghwa slid the lid off, steam rising over the edges of the box as the smell of spices filled the room. Hongjoong edged closer to see, guqin lying forgotten as he was drawn in by the scent.

“Not having congee for lunch again today.” Seonghwa said as he removed the bowls from the box. Setting the box aside on the floor, he pushed one of the bowls towards Hongjoong.

“What is it?” Hongjoong asked.

“No poor, darling pigs or chickens.” Seonghwa said, perhaps a bit sulkily. “I got some spices in Caiyi. Garlic, onion, ginger. And you know, _salt.”_

He couldn’t believe the Lans. Seriously.

“And some other things as well. Eat it now. We can skip the lunch in the hall. I made an extra serving for you because I was already in the kitchen, anyway.”

Hongjoong didn’t make a move to touch the food, only stared at it with a soft sort of look on his face that Seonghwa felt odd to have been the cause for.

“Stop looking at it like that!” He exclaimed, before grabbing one of the pairs of chopsticks on the table. He reached forward across the gap between them, pulled Hongjoong’s hand up by the wrist, and forced the chopsticks into his hand.

Hongjoong didn’t seem offended by the rough action as Seonghwa released his grip. He only repositioned his body until he was sitting at the table next to the Jin.

“You made this for me?” He continued to stare at the food before him with an expression Seonghwa felt uncomfortable looking at for too long.

“Surprised I possess the skill, are you?” Seonghwa huffed though his first mouthful of tofu. He still hadn’t quite gotten used to its texture yet, but it was much more tolerable with the addition of what spices he could find. Chilli from Yunmeng would have made it even better, but he knew Hongjoong was likely to cry like a child if he added even the slightest bit, given how alien the concept of flavour was to his clan.

Hongjoong lifted up a piece of the dish in front of him, and when he placed it in his mouth Seonghwa couldn’t tear his eyes away. What if he’d added too much of something for Hongjoong’s tastes? What if-

“It’s good.” Hongjoong said, a happy little smile growing on his face as he and Seonghwa met eyes. “It’s really good. Thank you.”

The man was too trusting. How easy it would have been for Seonghwa to have added something ilicit to his bowl. It wasn’t like they were exactly _friends._

“When did you learn how to cook?” Hongjoong asked halfway through their meal.

“No talking during meal times.” Seonghwa shot back. Instead of getting annoyed, the corners of Hongjoong’s lips turned up in amusement.

“I learned here and there.” Seonghwa said. He pointedly ignored the memory earlier in the day of his three separate failings in the kitchen, as well as the over an hour he spent harassing one of the female Jin disciples about spices.

Hongjoong nodded instead of vocalising a response, cheeks wide with food as he chewed. Food Seonghwa had cooked. The fact made a warm, almost gooey feeling in his body seep out of his heart and travel to the tips of his toes and the top of his head.

“You’re a strange one, Young Master Jin.” Hongjoong broke the silence several minutes later, when both their bowls were empty. “Spoil me like this, and soon I’ll be expecting such a meal every day.”

“I’ll make it for you. Every day.” Seonghwa said unthinkingly. Hongjoong’s eyes widened.

The gooey feeling in his chest suddenly expanded _too_ far, solidified, and then threatened to break out of his chest. Seonghwa coughed, diverting his eyes and attention to the bowls and chopsticks as he placed them back inside the box.

“Play for me. Now.” He demanded of Hongjoong. He felt Hongjoong’s gaze linger on him, but he refused to meet it this time.

“Play for me or I’ll tell one of your senior disciples about that Emperor’s Smile.”

At those words, the other man acquiesced. It was a far more bemused than threatened-looking Hongjoong that sat over the guqin this time.


	7. Chapter 7

“Jeong Jongho?” Seonghwa said. A pair of big eyes widened when they took in the man before him.

It was late afternoon, and the final class at the Recesses had only just ended. Jongho darted upright, bowing deeply towards Seonghwa.

“Young Master Jin.” He said, gaze politely deferred downwards.

“I noticed that you spend a lot of your time alone.” Seonghwa said. “I hope I am not being too forward, but I wanted to know whether you wished to spend some time in my company today?”

Jongho gasped slightly at his words, eyes still pointed downwards. Even though they wore identical uniforms at Cloud Recesses, the differences in rank in the world outside still permeated every interaction between the disciples. It was perhaps with that in mind that Jongho worded his acceptance with a level of grace that likely wouldn’t have left his mouth for any of the other Jins.

The two walked together through the Recesses at a leisurely pace, with no real destination in mind. The day was overcast, a sheen of dark grey covering the sky like a veil. The heavens had threatened a rain, but had yet to deliver on their promise.

“Cloud Recesses is very different from Carp Tower. Have you ever been there?” Seonghwa asked.

“No, Young Master Jin. Before I came here, I had only ever seen the Jiang’s Lotus Pier, as well as the village I grew up in before I was accepted as a disciple.” Jongho replied.

“Well, Carp Tower is very expansive.” Seonghwa said. “Endless banquet halls, exquisite fabrics adorning every man and woman. Not to mention the bountiful and varied cuisine. I must admit, adapting to the Cloud Recesses took some time. Not that Carp Tower is in any way superior, of course. Each of the great sect’s have their own strengths.”

“I agree.” Jongho said, posture slightly stiff and arms behind him as he continued walking a step or two behind Seonghwa.

They spoke for some time longer. Seonghwa readily offered up information about the Jin clan, and asked Jongho numerous questions about his own.

“I am just a visiting disciple, Young Master Jin. I do not claim to be a true member of the Jiang clan.”

“Oh, my apologies.” Seonghwa said as he slowed pace. Jongho stopped with him, and Seonghwa turned on his heel to face him, meeting his eyes. “It appears the Jin clan and the Jiang clan have a cultural difference I was unaware of. You see, all Jin clan guest disciples are encouraged to see themselves as part of the clan, even if they originated from outside of our Carp Tower. We welcome anyone that is talented enough to see themselves as our family.”

“I see. That is fascinating.” Was Jongho’s response. Jongho’s eyes maintained their contact with him. Seonghwa offered him a smile that he knew would carry enough warmth to put the other man at ease. The stiff line of Jongho’s back loosened slightly, and his head cocked to the side.

He seemed interested at the very least, Seonghwa concluded, but whether or not he was being genuine or simply extensively polite was anybody’s guess.

“Of course, those that are the solitary type are not pushed into interactions they are not comfortable with.” Seonghwa said.

“Oh, I do not spend as much time alone in Lotus Pier, Young Master Jin.” Jongho reassured. “I must admit, I am not close to many of the disciples that clan leader sent here. But there are people there that are important to me.”

“That is unfortunate that you are separated from them.” Seonghwa said. “Is Yunmeng where your family originates? I am close to Nie Mingi, and I believe one of his close confidants is your brother, correct?”

“Yunho is my brother.” Jongho said. “The Nie method of cultivation requires great physical strength, whereas for the Jiang method you must fight with light feet. My brother was well suited for either, but I lacked the ability to adapt to the Nie method. Our family thought it best I be sent to Lotus Pier, and he to the Unclean Realm.”

Jongho was a solid figure before him, though he stood at a slightly shorter height. Seonghwa was not expecting the words that left his mouth. If he had to, he would assume Jeong Jongho would be stronger than him. With the amount of power he held behind a sword the few times Seonghwa had watched him spar with one, he assumed an evidence of physical prowess would be found hidden underneath his flowing robes.

“It is fortunate that you both are excelling in your studies in your respective sects, then.” Seonghwa said regardless.

Just then, the distant shouting of a woman broke the otherwise silence of the Recesses. On the other side of the nearby bridge connecting the gaps of land formed by a flow of water, stood a rather cowed Jin disciple. A Jiang woman stood a meter away from him, hand pointing towards his chest accusingly.

“You foul boy!” The woman sealed the gap between them, finger pressing down onto the man’s chest hard enough that it turned white. “You… you cheated! You said we would be together, and only us!”

“Goodness.” Seonghwa sighed as he watched the exchange. “Excuse me, Jongho. It wouldn't do well for the honour of either of our clans for any of the Lans to witness this.. disagreement.”

Jongho spluttered a distracted platitude as the woman continued screaming. Seonghwa marched up towards them, feet audibly thudding on the wooden bridge in his haste.

\----------------------------------

It was well past nine o’clock, with the last candle in the Lan disciple’s quarters long since extinguished. Yet San still had not returned. Yeosang eyed the empty bed across from his own, moonlight casting the room in long shadows as his hands fumbled uselessly at his bed covers. It wouldn’t be the first time his roommate and best friend returned late. After the first several times it happened when they were younger, Yeosang had even stopped confessing to Hongjoong about it, unless San did something that made Yeosang particularly worried.

Hongjoong always turned into a dark stormy cloud of anxiety and stress the moment San did anything he considered too much. After every beating with the discipline rod San endured at the hands of the senior disciples, his older brother would complain and berate him.

_ “What were you thinking, climbing up that tree all by yourself? You’re lucky Yeosang found you, or it would’ve been more than just a broken ankle and a sore back!” _

_ “Why, San? Why do you keep sneaking chilli into the congee? Do you want to get beaten until you scar?” _

_ “San, why do you keep sneaking out after curfew to drink? And why do you always drag poor Yeosang with you? You know he can’t say no to you!” _

But these days, San had not been taking Yeosang with him. Whatever he was doing for the past month, Yeosang was never told. The man always snuck back into the room, sometimes past midnight, and went to bed without a word. Yeosang would toss and turn in his own bed every night until he would return, but pretended to be asleep when the door creaked open.

Yeosang was expecting that dark cloud to abduct Hongjoong again when he told him about the ex disciples in Caiyi. And Hongjoong certainly had gotten upset, wringing his hands through his hair until it grew knotted at the thought of what could have happened. But for some reason, the worried and upset Hongjoong that Yeosang was expecting to tip-toe around for days was gone by that same afternoon. Small mercies, he figured, Hongjoong must have had some heart-to-heart with San at some point when he wasn’t looking.

He’d hoped said heart-to-heart would have made San more cautious, at least for the time being. He hadn’t ventured out of the Cloud Recesses (as far as Yeosang knew) ever since, but Yeosang could bet he had probably roped some other clan’s visiting disciple into smuggling him goods instead of going out himself. He did it every year, especially if Madam Lan was paying particular attention to him for some reason or another.

Even if San was up to mischief with some mysterious guest disciple, it still didn’t make sense that Yeosang wasn’t invited. Even if Yeosang occasionally blabbed to Hongjoong, he was still always invited. Even in the few times Yeosang had inquired, San had just sent him a dimpled smile and told him not to worry.

It was that night, as Yeosang stared frustrated at the once-again empty bed, that his resolve broke. Shoving the covers off him, he stood. He fastened his headband around him in record time (the very thought of not wearing it under any circumstance always felt too alien to ever entertain), threw on his outer robes, and carefully opened the door to the hallway outside.

After a long day of hesitation, the sky above had finally decided to let loose a spattering of water, and though he paid it no mind it still dampened his hair when he left cover.

He was wondering around the Recesses for a good few minutes before he realised how useless his endeavour truly was. Their home wasn’t as big as a bustling town like Caiyi, but it wasn’t small either. Every step he took he felt his palms sweat, expecting a Lan patrol guard to materialize out of nowhere to write him up for not being asleep. He had entered an area in the Recesses that he knew to be filled with several private rooms before he figured his search was fruitless. Without any idea as to where San had gone, there was little point in searching. Perhaps he would have to shadow San the next time he snuck out, though even the idea of the act made him feel dishonourable.

He was about to turn back, defeated and more than a little embarrassed at his short-lived escapade when he noticed a light flickering through a closed window. One of the few lone-standing rooms in the Recesses, normally left empty, was occupied by someone who had not yet retired for bed.

He pictured a handsome, yet rude and annoying man with a vermillion mark before remembering that Jin Seonghwa had been assigned a room next to his fellow Jin disciples. He would have thought maybe the room was Nie Mingi’s if he hadn’t seen that man stumbling out of another on the other side of the Recesses for breakfast the week previous. That left only one likely occupant.

Wen Wooyoung’s troublesome smirk entered his mind’s eye, and with that he was making his way to the room’s entrance without a second thought. He paused when he got close enough, listening to the muffled voices from within.

“No, they’re absolutely vile.” The voice of Wen Wooyoung came through the door. It was slightly slurred, like the man was either half asleep or drunk.

“Nuh uh! Oranges are among the best. Your ranking is wrong.” Another voice replied. Yeosang sprang into action the moment he recognised it.

“What the fuck!” San swore when the door slammed open. He and Wen Wooyoung sat at a table in the middle of the room, haphazard pages of a messy scrawl and a few pots of Emperor’s Smile covering the thing completely.

“Yeosang hyung?” San asked. At first he had turned to the intruder as if Yeosang was a vengeful spirit that had climbed its way up the mountain, but relaxed visibly when he met Yeosang’s glaring eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here?” Yeosang spat, closing the door (more gently) behind him and approaching the pair. “What about you? In  _ Wen Wooyoung’s _ room, past curfew, drinking and…”

He inspected the pages spread around the table, but before he could try and decipher more than a few stray characters Wen Wooyoung was already brushing them away onto the floor. The man quickly assembled them into a stack and gave Yeosang a grin.

“‘S research.” He hiccuped. “Oranges are nasty.”

“Shut up!” San said, folding his arms childishly. Yeosang was relieved to see that San seemed mostly sober, though the same could not be said for the man sitting across from him.

“Let’s settle this debate once and for all. Yeosang hyung.” A hand was suddenly pulling at his robes. San had a handful of them, trying to convince him to sit down beside him with an action rather than words.

“Oranges or grapes. Which one is more delicious? Obviously grapes are the most disappointing of all the fruits.”

Wooyoung, to Yeosang’s shock, blew a raspberry towards San at his words. The man’s eyes shrank into half moons as he giggled. It was perhaps this shock that had Yeosang falling down to sit at the table before him.

“Hmm… Wooyoung is really not a very good drinker.” San informed him, releasing his grip on Yeosang’s robes and moving his hand to rest within Yeosang’s own. Yeosang’s hand shifted to let San’s fingers fill in the gaps between his.

“We should try and catch up!” San had grabbed a spare cup before Yeosang could blink, filling it up and nudging it towards him.

“San,” Yeosang began again, ever-suffering. “What are you doing here?”

For a moment, he thought San was going to evade the question again. But luckily, the other man seemed to realise that his patience was wearing thin.

“I’m sorry.” San said. “Wooyoung and I have just been… hanging out? Everybody’s scared of him because he’s a Wen. He didn’t want the other disciples to think badly of me so we just spend time together at night.”

Wen Wooyoung was swaying back and forth slightly as he spoke, eyes looking at one of the candles behind Yeosang like it held some deep secret to their universe. His entire face was flushed. The flush extended down his neck, Yeosang registered with an unconscious swallow, as the thin red robe the man was adorned in had started to sit just slightly too loose on his body.

“Why didn’t you just  _ tell _ me that?” Yeosang tore his eyes away from the drunken man.

“Because I knew you wouldn’t like it.” San’s eyes met the floor as his shoulders slumped. “You hate him. He doesn’t have any other friends. And-and he’s been helping me with self-defence stuff!”

“Yes, fighting styles. And how to run away, but with skill. Hmph.” Wooyoung nodded enthusiastically.

Yeosang just looked at the man incredulously. Gone was the quiet, brooding man that always sat in the corner of the classroom. The man with a dark grin and darker eyes as he hovered around the practice grounds when they used their swords, wherein only the most unlucky had to spar with him. His above-average fighting skills were never the main reason everybody wanted to avoid him there. Though they weren’t ignored, either

_ “A descendant of the evil Ghost General.” _ A whisper, overheard.  _ “I heard that he’s just like his great-great-great Grandfather and that his heart doesn’t even beat in his chest.” _

_ “I heard that he murders cats and eats them in a stew to give himself more cultivation power.” _ Came another.

_ “I heard he’s a demonic cultivator.” _

“San hyungie.” Wen Wooyoung whined, leaning back on the cushion he sat on and jutting his chin up. “Give me another cup. I want it.”

Yeosang shook his head. It was madness.  _ Madness. _

He downed the cup of Emperor’s Smile in one smooth gulp.

San giggled, feet kicking underneath the table. Wooyoung sat back up straight, giving San an annoyed look as his feet doubtlessly made contact with Wooyoung’s own.

“I’m glad you understand, Yeosang hyung!” San’s warm body perched next to Yeosang, arms encircling one of Yeosang’s own and head resting briefly on Yeosang’s shoulder before he separated once more to down his own glass.

And hence began one of the strangest nights Yeosang had experienced in a good while.

“One time, grandma decided to do a spell on the orange trees.” Wooyoung began lamenting after Yeosang had finished his fourth cup. “And for some reason, we ended up with five times the harvest we normally got from it! The oranges just grew, and grew, and grew! My little brother and I would strip a tree but it would be full of them again by the next week!”

“What? No way!” San slammed his free fist onto the table. The one wrapped up in Yeosang’s hand swung wildly.

“But grandma could never work out how to do it again.” Wooyoung giggled. “She was so put off when the spell didn’t work the year after. I’m so glad though, I had so many oranges that year I wanted to be sick! I’m traumatised. Traumatised!”

Yeosang’s body was slow, but his mind picked back up into gear as he committed the Wen's words to memory.

“Do you do farm work?” He asked. Wooyoung shrugged, robe shifting to reveal a slightly bronzed collarbone. Yeosang’s eyes drifted to it subconsciously.

“‘Course!” Wooyoung said. “But  _ shh. _ Not supposed to tell.”

A pointer finger met the man’s pouty lips.

Yeosang’s head almost spun at the implications. Normally, those that cultivated stayed far away from manual work. Only those already born into the clans were raised with such an opportunity. But for the majority, the working classes that lived in the clans’ territories… only the richest merchants could afford to send their children off to become cultivators, and even they only ended up in the lower ranks. Lower than even Yeosang.

Was that all Wooyoung was in the Wen clan hierarchy, past the magical barrier in the ancient Yiling burial grounds? Some old farmer’s grandson? Some village boy’s older brother sent out to brave the world?

Wooyoung seemed to finally realise his robe was peeling open, and shut it back up with a hiccup passing his plush lips. The soft crimson fabric seemed to almost glisten in the candlelight. It was a fabric only those like Jin Seonghwa ever wore.

“I’m go’in sleep.” The man in question murmured, lying back to rest on the floor. Like a candle being extinguished, he was gone.

  
What exactly  _ was _ Wen Wooyoung?


	8. Chapter 8

“Be a filial child.” The Lan clan instructor spoke, strutting back and forth along the empty stretch of floor before him. Men and women watched him as he moved across the front of the room. Some were fervent and attentive, though most held eyes long since glazed-over.

“It is a significant tenet of life. Central to one’s key virtues. Be good to one’s parents, engage in good conduct so as not to bring shame to one’s house and ancestors. Sacrifice for your parents both before and after their deaths. But it is not only this. To be filial is also to be steadfastly loyal to one’s clan. To die for one’s clan. To kill for one’s clan, if necessary…”

Seonghwa was certainly not one of those fervent onlookers. He waited, a mischievous glint in his eye, until the teacher turned around.

“Being loyal to one’s clan and ancestors is one of the most important aspects of being a pure and just cultivator. Any stray away from such, and you may one day find yourself among the likes of any of the demonic cultivators that have betrayed their clans and their families.”

The teacher’s body turned to face the window outside as his voice continued booming. Seonghwa seized the opportunity and lifted his body upwards, one hand balancing his upper body on the table in front of him as he used the other to pull hard on a small strand of hair flowing from the body at the table in front of him.

Kim Hongjoong flinched, and turned to glare at him from below his perfectly placed Lan headband as Seonghwa sat back down. A barely-there twitch at the end of the man’s lips betrayed his displeased face, and Seonghwa’s smile couldn’t help but grow. A few sniggers erupted from those surrounding them, pleased to have found a distraction in the classroom.

The greying teacher let out a grunt of confusion, studying the faces of the disciples before him. But Hongjoong had already turned his head back to the front again, and Seonghwa schooled his features back to a carefully black stare by the time the man’s gaze found his. The surrounding disciples were less successful, a few Jins fumbling in place at the man’s harsh look. After a long, tense silence, the teacher sighed.

“That is all for today.” He said, and the disciples scrambled for the exit, white robes creating a flurry of motion as they all raced to leave and enjoy what was left of the afternoon.

“Hongjoong.” Seonghwa said, hanging back as the shorter man followed the crowd.

Seonghwa received a slap to his arm.

“Why were you pulling on my hair?” Hongjoong asked, cheeks going puffy. “Are you a child?”

“Are you busy now?” Seonghwa asked, the other man’s words washing off him as he watched Hongjoong pause in thought.

“No.” Hongjoong said. “Why? Do you want to listen to my music again?”

Seonghwa nodded enthusiastically, and Hongjoong’s lips quirked as he considered the man’s words.

“But you don’t have any food for me this time? Unless you’ve been hiding it in your robes?”

Hongjoong’s eyes travelled downwards, and Seonghwa’s back straightened at the other man’s action.

“No.” He said. Something about Hongjoong’s travelling eyes made Seonghwa’s throat clench, and he coughed, eyes darting about the emptying lanshi. “But will you come, anyway?”

Hongjoong hummed, and tilted his head to the side. His eyes narrowed.

“Will you tease me if I say no?” He said. Despite the content of his question, his voice was light, like he thought something was funny about Seonghwa.

“I’ll tease you no matter what you say.” Seonghwa said flatly. Hongjoong’s eyes rolled, and a small smile grew on the man’s lips as he shook his head.

“Fine. Let’s go to the practice room. San always seems to be off doing something these days anyway.”

Hongjoong advanced out of the room, and Seonghwa had to be quick to catch up to the man’s quick stride.

“Hopefully whatever it is won’t end up with him getting into trouble. More than normal, anyway.” Hongjoong continued.

“You worry for him?” Seonghwa asked as they made their way down one of the Recess’ many stone pathways.

“I always do.” Hongjoong said with a shrug. “But Yeosang assures me it’s okay. I trust Yeosang.”

Before long, they had made it to the room that Seonghwa was beginning to remember every detail to. He sat next to Hongjoong as the other man took his place in front of his usual table.

“Where’s your guqin?” Seonghwa questioned. A shelf in the corner of the room was filled with several flutes, some a different size and shape, all some shade of pale blue or bone white. But other than that, there was no place for one to store a guqin, other than on the noticeably empty table that Hongjoong now sat before.

“Watch!” Hongjoong said, bouncing ever-so-slightly on the cushion he sat on as he reached his right hand out. Seonghwa did watch, captivated, as a dark wooden instrument materialised with a small gust of mist from thin air. For a moment, the guqin floated a few centimeters steadily above the table before Hongjoong’s hand lowered. It followed its master’s guide until it lay flat on the table.

“I learnt how to store it spiritually!” Hongjoong announced. “Isn’t it interesting? I can only store it for short periods, though. It gets too tiring on my golden core otherwise. But if I practice, maybe one day I could use it for night hunts and the like.”

“Night hunts.” Seonghwa nodded. “You would use music cultivation? Not a sword?”

Hongjoong nodded.

“I’ve never been very good at swordplay, if I’m honest.” He said. “I don’t imagine you’ve seen me during practice.”

Seonghwa certainly had. He remembered back to a few days previous, where the Lan sword instructor had taken all the guest disciples and the group of Lan’s also in their class out onto the sparring field. He had paired up with one of his Jins, but couldn’t help but watch out of the corner of his eye as Lan Yeosang and Hongjoong sparred with one another during the hour.

“You’re not bad at the skill.” Seonghwa said. “Lan Yeosang is just exceptionally talented at it. A fair match for a Jin, at any rate.”

Hongjoong sniggered, covering up the bottom half of his face as he reacted to Seonghwa’s words.

“Yeosang could beat any of you Jins with a hand tied behind his back. You have all the confidence in the world, but it would be your undoing.”

“Brave words from a man hailing from a clan most well known for its five thousand rules.” Seonghwa drawled. “It’s a miracle you all managed to develop basic hand-eye coordination given how much time you spend sitting around all day memorising  _ central tenets  _ instead of actual training.”

Hongjoong didn’t say anything to this, only looked down at his guqin with a hint of amusement as Seonghwa continued rambling.

“How many central tenets are there, anyway? At that teacher’s rate, all of your damn rules will be considered central. Not to mention how he manages to make some excuse to bring up demonic cultivation  _ every _ lesson. Surely Wen Wooyoung tires of it by now. It’s not like the man is practicing it right in the middle of the Recesses.”

Seonghwa was interrupted by a soft giggle falling out of the other man’s lips. He watched as Hongjoong brought one of his hands up to his face again. A single dark nail bed broke up the soft warm glow of the other man’s skin as Seonghwa watched. His eyes narrowed in on it once more, despite himself. Hongjoong’s gaze followed his, and he placed his hands back onto the guqin, splaying them across the seven strings.

“I got them when I was fourteen.” Hongjoong said after a pause. Their eyes met, and there was something intense about Hongjoong’s face as he looked at Seonghwa. Seonghwa’s posture straightened as the words left the other’s mouth.

“Was it an accident?” Seonghwa asked softly.

Hongjoong shook his head.

“There were these other disciples, a few years older than us. Six of them. They were all sons and daughters of decently well-off merchants in Gusu. They… were not very nice people.”

“What did they do?” Seonghwa’s blood was cooling in his veins, a cold, icy feeling pressing onto his chest at the uncomfortable expression growing on Hongjoong’s face.

“They normally wouldn’t bother me.” Hongjoong said. “But they hated San. He’s always been outgoing, and naughty. But Madam Lan always had a soft spot for him, and he’s in the family, so she would never kick him out no matter what he would do.”

One of Hongjoong’s fingers moved across the guqin, a single twang sounding off of the instrument as he absent-mindedly plucked it.

“But mostly I think it was just because he never had any natural affinity to cultivate. You know how it is, every now and again there is a person who cultivation just never works for. And by the time they’ve passed the early years of their childhood, the odds of ever developing a golden core shrink smaller and smaller. San is one of the only people here that can’t swing the swords we all use, a sword spirit would never respond to him the right way. But he’s in the family, this is his home.”

A few stray notes sounded off the guqin.

“And they  _ hated  _ that.” Hongjoong said, lips curling upwards at some distant memory. “It was always just pranks, little things that might upset him, and even make him cry. But it was never enough for them to get into any real trouble. Yeosang was always with San, and even as a kid he was very defensive of him. But when they were both thirteen, Yeosang went away to visit his mother.”

Hongjoong paused there, almost to collect his breath. After the man’s closed-off demeanor the last time Seonghwa pressed the topic, the Jin was shocked at how freely the words were spilling from the Lan’s mouth.

“San went missing for a few hours. It was getting dark by the time I realised something was wrong. I found them outside the Recesses. They had been chasing him through the mountains for hours, throwing rocks at him. His head was bleeding, his robes were ripped up. I’ve never seen him look that scared before.”

Hongjoong’s hands stilled on the guqin, tips of his fingers tightening slightly around the outermost string.

“I yelled at them to stop. But instead, they just grabbed at me. They were upset I’d interrupted their…” Hongjoong hesitated,  _ “playtime.” _

“What did they do?” Seonghwa asked the question again, watching as Hongjoong’s eyes continued to stare holes into his instrument.

“I didn’t have anything to defend myself with. San begged them to stop, but their ringleader insisted on punishing me instead. He knew how much I liked to play the guqin. They held me down, and he grabbed a large rock, and…”

Seonghwa’s hands clenched into fists as fire instantly evaporated all of his cold anxiety.

“So he… he…” Seonghwa couldn’t finish the question, but Hongjoong answered it for him, anyway. A tsunami of words flowed from his mouth, and Hongjoong was either unable or unwilling to stop them.

“They wanted to go slowly. So they started with the outermost fingers. But a group of older disciples were heading back from Gusu, and interrupted them before they could get any further. They were kicked out of the Lan clan, and their families were even too ashamed to accept them back. I thought they had all gone far away, but San and Yeosang had a run-in with them in Caiyi Town just before classes began.”

“They’re here, now?” Seonghwa asked, a calm tone of voice just barely managing to cover up his tumultuous emotions.

Hongjoong nodded.

“But don’t worry for me.” He said. “I never lost any dexterity. Even if they had… finished what they wanted to do, my golden core likely would have healed me up quickly. I’m okay, now. It’s San I worry for. I checked in on his and Yeosang’s room the other night. Their beds were empty. It would be just like San to ignore the threat and head back to Caiyi anyway. Yeosang can only do so much against six other people.”

“How… how could people be so… cruel? So disgusting?” Seonghwa gazed at Hongjoong’s hands, the new meaning of the purple stains on them making him want to grab Hongjoong and hide him from the world. Hongjoong was small, vulnerable. The very idea that people would want to destroy his _ hands _ on purpose made his stomach roll. Destorry Lan Hongjoong’s hands. Just to be evil.

He would hunt down those people. He would  _ hurt  _ those people.

Hongjoong didn’t seem to know how to answer him. Instead of words, the notes of a gentle, beautiful song filled the room. The Lan had started playing again, fingers dancing up and down the guqin strings.


	9. Chapter 9

The branches hanging off the bush behind Lan San brushed uncomfortably against his back as he shrank into place. Bright eyes kept watch on the dirt path a few meters ahead. Hands grasped the leaves of the plant in front of him as he maneuvered them to obscure his face. A thick stack of papers lay balanced on his thighs.

Soon, a single pair of feet made their way down the path, its owner pausing in front of him. Jin Seonghwa, in all his cocky, annoying glory, turned and stared directly at him.

“Your headpiece is still visible.” The man said, before turning to inspect his nails, looking for all the world like San was some insignificant peasant that had wandered upon _him._

_“Shhhh!”_ San held a desperate finger to his lips as more footsteps approached. He shrank down until his knees touched the grassy floor, remembering his headpiece with a curse. The papers he had to hold up with a hand, lest they fall to the ground.

Behind Seonghwa, an older Lan emerged from the pathway.

“Young Master Jin!” A man shouted as he hobbled over. He was aged, with a thin, spidery beard and balding head. His back had a permanent hunch to it, and he was panting slightly as he neared Seonghwa enough to bow. The Jin returned the gesture, face blank.

“You…” The old Lan panted. “You haven’t happened to have seen a young man passing through here lately, have you? A rather ill-willed one, carrying some papers?”

Lan San held his breath. Jin Seonghwa’s brows furrowed, the perfect picture of an innocent confusion.

“I am afraid not, Senior Master.” Seonghwa said. “I have not come across any others on this path.”

“Damn!” The man yelled. His eyes went wide as he realised what he had done, and his expression was near simpering as he bowed again in apology. The old Lan continued on his way, half-running, half-shuffling down the pathway, wheezing in his haste.

Jin Seonghwa watched him leave, and it was only after the man had disappeared down a bend on the path that his gaze returned back to the bushes.

“You can come out now.” He said flatly. “You know we have to be somewhere soon, right?”

“Whatever, whatever.” San huffed, pushing himself out of the greenery and to Seonghwa’s side. He brushed stray leaves out of his hair with one hand as he grasped a stack of papers on the other. “I suppose now you’re going to try and extort me somehow for not ratting me out?”

The other man seemed to consider San’s words for a moment, even placing one hand thoughtfully on his chin for a moment. He looked extra punchable in that moment, if anyone asked San.

But surprisingly, Seonghwa did not come up with some horrible task for San, or demand some promise or favour that he wouldn’t give a name to.

“No.” He only said. “You’re not worth the energy.”

San scoffed, turning on his heels and heading back down the path towards the Recesses.

“But,” Seonghwa started, matching his pace. “What’s in those papers? Let me guess, secret love letters?”

“Old men are the predictable sort.” San rolled his eyes. “He and one of the other older Madams are having a secret love affair. He kept all the letters to her in a drawer that wasn’t even locked! He was begging me to take them.”

“And you accuse me of extortion.” Seonghwa chuckled.

“I’m not gonna extort him.” San defended. “I’ll put them back. I just wanted to scare him a little. He teaches the juniors, and is the biggest hypocrite. Always tries to catch them out going on dates. Like suddenly if you have a boyfriend or girlfriend you must be too busy to study as well. Meanwhile, he’s got his own secret lady!”

San opened the front of his outer robes and stuffed the papers inside, looking at Seonghwa with suspicion as he did so.

“What’s your deal, anyway?” He asked.

Seonghwa blinked. “My deal?”

“Yeah.” San said. “Or did you forget the last time we spoke? The time you caught me and Yeosang hyung and Hongjoong hyung and made Hongjoong hyung promise to owe you something in return for not telling anyone?”

“Ah, that.” Seonghwa tutted.

“What did you have him do, anyway?” San asked. “He said it wasn’t a bad thing, but I don’t know if I believe that.”

“It wasn’t a bad thing.” Was all Seonghwa said in reply. After a moment of waiting, it appeared the rich boy wasn’t going to be forthcoming, and San’s patience grew thin.

San humphed. “If you don’t tell me, I’m just gonna assume it was a sex thing.”

Seonghwa’s feet stumbled in their path, as the man stopped to gawk at him.

_“Sex thing?”_ Seonghwa hissed, looking at San like he’d grown another head.

San nodded solemnly. “Well it has to be, doesn’t it? I figured I knew exactly what kind of bully you’d be, but after that night you haven’t been doing much of anything after class. You go to Hongjoong hyung and make him go with you to who-knows-where and then when it’s time for dinner you both come back and you’re all smug and he’s acting all weird. And that’s if you two even make it to dinner in the first place! And hyung won’t tell me what it is. But he’s all _bubbly_ and _glowy_ these days. Honestly, I thought _I_ was supposed to be the shameless brother!”

Over the course of San’s spiel, Jin Seonghwa’s face had grown progressively redder and redder. It was a tomato-faced man that spluttered back at San.

“I am _not_ having _sex_ with your brother!” Jin Seonghwa’s eyes were huge. “We… I just… I just listen to him play his guqin.”

San gasped.

_“Wait, you do?”_ He screamed at the other man. “I… I was just joking! Mostly! Wait… so…”

San had to take a minute to breathe. A dramatic hand clutched his chest, though the papers provided an inch-thick barrier.

“You _extorted_ my brother just so you could hang out with him? Seriously?”

Seonghwa’s lips were a thin line, outrage nearly sparking off his fingertips. San wasn’t threatened by the older cultivator in the slightest.

“You know,” San began, a wave of uncontrollable laughter beginning to spill from his lips. “If you have a crush on someone, you can just _ask_ them to spend time with you?”

Seonghwa sneered, storming off without another word. San stood on the spot for several moments more, cacking wildly until Seonghwa had disappeared from sight.

Perhaps twenty minutes later, San still had the scandalous love letters in his robes when he marched up to a clearing on top of a mountain ledge.

“San!” Yeosang waved, beckoning him closer. A few dozen disciples sat in small groups around paints and thin paper materials. San grinned, and raced to him and Hongjoong, who sat on the dirt ground by themselves in a corner of the large, loose group.

“You’re late.” Hongjoong chastised as San plopped himself onto the ground. “I thought you were excited to paint lanterns today?”

San shrugged. “I got distracted by something.”

Groups of Jiangs, Nies, and Jins broke up the more familiar contingent of Lans that San had known for years. Nie Mingi was delicately painting on some paper a few feet away from them, surrounded by several of his clan’s disciples. Beyond him, sat the Jins. They all listened attentively to some of the Lans as they described the value and significance behind learning just the basics of lantern-making, except for one exception.

Jin Seonghwa glared at him as he made eye contact. San snorted, giving the other man a wave. Seonghwa looked away with a huff.

“Wow.” San remarked to his two companions. “That Jin Seonghwa. I really riled him up.”

“What?” Hongjoong whispered, giving him a severe look. “What did you do?”

“Nothing, really.” San said. “I just teased him a bit. He said you’ve been spending time together, hyung. And that he listens to your guqin playing.”

“Does he now?” Yeosang said with raised eyebrows, as Hongjoong bit his lip.

“He’s… an odd man, I guess.” Hongjoong said. “But, he’s kind.”

_“Kind?_ After what he said to you? He’s so pompous.” Yeosang stated with certainty. San peered over the man’s shoulder to see what he was painting.

On Yeosang’s lantern paper was already the outline of a large, prancing kitten. San giggled. How cute.

Yeosang turned to look at San as he heard the noise, and the two exchanged a smile.

“He isn’t that bad, really.” Hongjoong said, too focused on his own painting to notice their interaction. “He’s actually good company, these days. Now that you two are off doing whatever it is you’re doing.”

As if subconsciously, San’s eye’s darted to a lone man, sitting at the edge of the crowd. Wooyoung, by all accounts, had appeared to not have even noticed the avoidance the rest of the disciples practiced on him.

“You don’t have to tell me.” Hongjoong said, still focused on his painting efforts. “But just promise me that you won’t get yourself hurt. If anything happened to you, I-”

“Don’t worry, hyung.” San interrupted. “I won’t get hurt. I promise. It’s nothing dangerous.”

San rolled his eyes at Yeosang’s single raised eyebrow.

In the distance, Jin Seonghwa stood, lantern paper in hand. He caught the attention of the three men as he turned away from his surrounding clan disciples and started to make his way to the edge of the group. The Jins watched him questionably as he went, before shrugging it off and getting back to their work.

It was members of the other clans who watched, concerned, as Seonghwa sat down in front of Wen Wooyoung. The other man said something to Seonghwa, and the Jin nodded. Seonghwa picked up one of Wooyoung’s brushes and dipped it into the paint bowl, resuming his task. The disciples all gave one another anxious glances, but after seeing the Jins appear relatively unfazed at their default leader’s actions, the atmosphere slowly relaxed again.

Wooyoung had told San that Jin Seonghwa had gone up to speak with him a few times, but just spending time with him in the open like that? San was deep in thought as he looked back down to his lantern painting. Jin Seonghwa makes some odd choices of friends.

“Hey, Hongjoong hyung, about that Jin Seonghwa...” San started.

“Quiet.” Hongjoong shushed. A group of Lans next to them gave them sideways glances at San’s words. Almost instantly, Hongjoong’s attention had gone back to being locked on his painting.

San couldn’t help but be curious about his, as well. He lifted himself up onto his heels slightly, peering his head over to see a mostly-done painting of a ship. Hongjoong had finished up on its body, and was gently lining in the ropes connecting one of it’s three large sails to a tall mast.

Gusu was landlocked, and San knew Hongjoong had never seen such a ship before, outside of book illustrations.

“Nice job so far, hyung.” He said, smiling as Hongjoong spared him a single appreciative glance.

“But something is definitely funny about Young Master Jin.” San started again. “I think he likes you, hyung.”

Hongjoong’s head whipped up, arm moving away from his painting so fast a few small drops of black paint sprayed onto the edge of the paper.

“What?” Hongjoong said, voice a slightly higher pitch than normal.

“Well,” San continued, enjoying the shocked look on his normally stoic brother. “He has you play music for him. And he follows you around, dragging you off away from your work all the time. I heard from Taehyun and Minho that he even interrupted your study time in the library pavilion! What kind of man would follow you so much, if he didn’t have a crush on you?”

A quiet snigger sounded a meter away from them. Two other Lans had craned their heads back, clearly eavesdropping in on the conversation.

“Following men around, dragging them off the studious path…” One of them said, giving San a knowing look. “You’re one to talk, Lan San.”

“Hey!” San protested. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“If doing such things means a man likes another man,” the Lan continued, crossing his arms. “Then you must’ve fancied Lan Yeosang since you were a young child.”

Yeosang froze in place at his side, hand stilling midway through a brush stroke on his cat’s tail. San spluttered incredulously.

“I do not!” He spat back at the two. Both Lans rolled their eyes. “Why would I like Yeosang hyung? That’s preposterous, right Yeosang hyung?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Yeosang contract in on himself slightly. Clearly, his poor hyung was embarrassed at the accusation!

“I’m normally shameless, but those words really go too far, Hyungjae!” San scolded. “Gossiping breaks clan rules!”

The two Lan disciples were seemingly uncowed by San’s words, and got back to their lantern-making moments later. After a lull, San got back to his painting.

“See, Yeosang hyung.” He chirped. “I made you into a cat, as well. Do you like it?”

To prove his point, San made the finishing touch to his lantern painting. Next to one of the cat’s eyes, he faintly dabbed some blotches of paint.

“If I had some red, maybe it would look better, but do you like it?”

San watched the other man’s reaction eagerly. Yeosang watched as San presented him with the full paper, but the man only shrugged, eyes downcast.

“That’s nice.” Were the only words that emerged from his mouth, his usual deep timbre a duller register than normal.

San frowned. Yeosang was never particularly gifted when it came to giving compliments. But something about the strained words and the hunched line of the other man’s back gave San pause. He peppered himself up a bit more, inching closer to his friend as he began prattling off about this and that. But the minutes stretched on, and Yeosang remained mostly nonverbal beyond one-note replies, a distant look in his eyes.

Soon, the lantern ceremony came and went, and San was distracted once more. All the disciples made a wish as they watched their lanterns fly off in the gentle wind, the beginnings of dusk tinging the blue sky with hints of purple.

“What are you going to wish for, Hongjoong hyung?” San asked, bothering his brother by poking at his side a little. Hongjoong ignored the teasing, clasping his hands together.

“I want to ride a ship.” Hongjoong said. “Just once, to see what it’s like.”

“Really? Again?” San giggled. “You’re not going to wish for my and Yeosang hyung’s eternal safety?”

“I only wish for things the gods have power to guarantee.” Hongjoong drawled. San laughed at his brother’s words as the disciples watched the lanterns float higher and higher away.

“Well then I wish that Yeosangie hyung and I can go on that ship with you one day.” San nodded. The edges of Hongjoong’s lips twitched upwards.

Afterwards, all the disciples made their way back to the Recesses. San skipped along slightly ahead of most of the pack as he and another Lan exchanged jokes.

Hongjoong and Yeosang hung back, pace leisurely as they followed.

“You should tell him.” Hongjoong said quietly to the other man. He was stoic, but there was a tenseness to his face that betrayed his concern.

“How could I?” Yeosang uttered. “He clearly doesn’t-”

“San needs to be slapped in the face with his feelings before he acknowledges their existence.” Hongjoong whispered back. “He’s not very in touch with them.”

Yeosang sighed, doubt clouding his mind. “He would never feel the same way.”

“Even if he doesn’t, wouldn’t it be better to have at least tried?” Hongjoong said softly. “Then to live with all these what-ifs?”

Yeosang turned to regard him, a brow arched. “And what about yourself?”

It was Hongjoong’s turn to feel studied, then.

“I’m… considering what to do about Jin Seonghwa.” He said, eyes travelling to glance cautiously at the taller man walking several paces ahead, as if any utterance of his name would expose the content of the conversation instantly. Yeosang nodded, accepting the answer for now. Together, the two continued on their way, minds separately distracted.


	10. Chapter 10

_ “You know, if you have a crush on someone, you can just ask them to spend time with you?” _

Seonghwa had successfully locked Lan San’s words out of his mind for the past few hours, but they came ringing back the moment he and the rest of the disciples began walking back the dirt path to the entrance of the Recesses. He scowled, and not even the jests of the Jin disciples could distract him as he walked.

“I can’t believe my lantern caught fire.” Kyungchul said mournfully, face sour. “It was surely the best made of all of them, behind Young Masters’.”

“If you can’t even control fire, Kyungchul, perhaps you should never have left Yanling in the first place.” A woman said, thumping the man on the back. The man let out a noise of outrage, and the pair exchanged half-hearted insults back and forth until the group had made it far enough inside the Recesses to be hushed by its somber atmosphere. Once inside, the clans split off from one another, and soon Seonghwa was left alone with the Jins. Wen Wooyoung gave him a wave as he disappeared in the direction of his quarters.

_ “You know, if you have a crush on someone, you can just ask them to spend time with you?” _

It was absurd. The idea that his interactions with Lan Hongjoong meant he could have a  _ crush _ on the man. Jin Seonghwa, inner-family member of the Jins, close enough to the clan leader to be one of the few people privileged enough to have a vermillion mark painted between his eyes, a man that desired another  _ man… _

_ “Come on.” Seonghwa had said. “Don’t you remember our agreement?” _

_ “But I’m busy.” Hongjoong had replied. “Now isn’t the time for practice-” _

_ “Practice is when I say it is.” _

Seonghwa winced at the memory.

_ “You made this for me?” Lan Hongjoong sat there in his mind’s eye, eyes soft and almost wondrous as he stared at the meal Seonghwa had put before him. _

“Young Master,” one of the Jins piped up. Seonghwa’s dazed eyes met hers as he shook his head a few times to clear it. “We are going to spend time together next to our quarters. Did you wish to join us?”

“Yes.” Seonghwa said immediately, welcoming the distraction.

But the uncomfortable thoughts persisted as he followed the others to a large table in a courtyard outside the structure that housed all of them. There weren’t enough seats for all dozen Jins, but they made do.

“Honestly don’t see the point of that whole thing.” One of the men started up. “Making lanterns, its servant business.”

“I’d take it anytime over being locked up in that stuffy classroom again.” Another replied.

“Yebin unnie and I were talking about something we saw today, actually,” a woman with a large silver headpiece whispered conspiratorially. The others all latched onto her words, inching in closer for the gossip.

“What?” A few of them murmured eagery.

“Nie Mingi and one of the other Nie disciples, Jeong Yunho.” One of the other women, Yebin, continued, a spark in her eyes. “When we were walking to the lantern-making class, we saw the two of them walking ahead of us. They were holding hands, and were very close.”

The group gasped.

“I’ve also heard rumours about those two.” Kyungchul said darkly. “That they are cutsleeves.”

Scandalous murmurs burst out through the dozen cultivators. Seonghwa shifted uncomfortably on his seat.

“How disgusting!” One of the men said.

“What a shame!” A woman standing at the end of the table groaned in a dramatic fashion. “That Nie Mingi is so handsome.”

“Like you’d ever have had a chance, anyway.” One of the other women guffawed. Her shoulder received an outraged slap in response.

“How could a man ever do  _ that _ with another man?” A Jin man said, nose scrunching up in distaste at Seonghwa’s side.

“Oh, it’s not a big deal.” A woman said, rolling her eyes. “You men can be so dramatic.”

“But Nie Mingi is to be sect leader some day, isn’t he?” The same man continued on. “How could he dishonour his future wife so, taking another man on as a lover?”

“Well he doesn’t  _ need _ to be married.” Yebin said, shrugging. “His sister is to be wed next summer. She could always provide an heir for the Nie clan.”

The men around the table mumbled doubtfully, clearly not too pleased with the idea.

“Nie Mingi’s personality is the bigger problem.” Yebin continued. “He’s simple, not disciplined and sharp enough. That should worry the Nies more than his male lover.”

She met eyes with Seonghwa, and sat up straight as a board as she seemed to realise her words.

“N-Not that Nie Mingi wouldn’t make a great sect leader!” She said. Seonghwa waved his hand half-heartedly, and she relaxed visibly. The other Jins gave Seonghwa sideways glances, seeming to remember only then that he was close to the man in question.

“Ah, our Young Master is friends with all sorts.” Kyungchul nodded. “Even Wen Wooyoung! Young Master Seonghwa does well to make connections with all those around him.”

Seonghwa gave the man a long stare, and soon Kyungchul was squirming in his seat.

“Yes, that’s right.” An oblivious Jin asserted. “Besides, the problem could fix itself. He could go back to normalcy soon, surely this is just some strange phase?”

“I doubt it,” A man from across the table spoke up solemnly. “I’ve been spending time with one of the Nie girls these days, as some of you know, and she told me that Young Master Nie was never interested in pretty girls during his teen years. Certainly a  _ different _ sort to those around him.”

“You never told me this!” Kyungchul erupted. “Which girl? Is it the one with those…”

Kyungchul made an obscene shape with his hands at the centre of his chest, and the Jin women made outraged noises.

“That doesn’t mean anything.” The Jin woman that had cried of Nie Mingi’s handsomeness pouted. “Our Young Master Seonghwa never chased girls around in his teenhood years either, but that doesn’t make  _ him _ a cutsleeve.”

The dozen Jin disciples all turned to look at him. Seonghwa straightened up on his seat, now regretting agreeing to sit with them at all.

“Of course not.” He said, with a sneer. The Jins nodded, and the topic soon changed to the Nie girlfriend one of them had seemingly acquired when Seonghwa wasn’t paying attention.

Eventually, the group all headed to dinner, and Seonghwa excused himself quickly after the affair. He closed the door to his room and sighed, leaning his head against the wooden frame as he flicked the few candles in the room on with a wave of his hand and release of spiritual energy from his core.

He changed into his bedclothes, mind miles away, and washed his face with the bowl on his dresser. The vermillion mark was wiped away after some light scrubbing, but the stain of the red pigment remained. Seonghwa stared at his reflection for a moment in the shifting water, the red stain an ever-present reminder.

He collapsed into bed, knowing there was still a few hours before the mandated curfew, but somehow feeling like the day had taken much more from him than others previously.

A cutsleeve. Nie Mingi was a cutsleeve.

The thought wasn’t entirely alien to his mind, and he thought back to the time he saw Nie Mingi and Jeong Yunho next to the pond before classes began.

They were… together. As two men. Seonghwa pictured what that would be like, and an unwelcome image sprung before him of the two, crushed up against one another with their lips locked. He groaned, lips curling up as he mentally swatted the image away.

Well, of course such an image would be distasteful to him. For he was not like  _ those _ men. Seonghwa, for some reason he would kick himself for later, suddenly felt the need to prove it.

A hand slowly travelled down to the top of his pants. He let out a breath, loosening the knot on them until he was able to pull them down to his thighs. He touched himself, filling his mind with images of beautiful women.

Women with soft, delicate breasts, women that giggled, and flushed red with pleasure as a man entered them. Women, with their coy glances and high-pitched moans.

The hand between his legs sped up, and he felt a growing hardness as his thumb made a circling motion. Seonghwa let out the smallest groan, legs widening an inch as he shut his eyes.

He had heard that women were tight, and warm. He hadn’t experienced it yet, but he tried to picture the way such a body would make him feel, and a second hand pressed down onto the place below his balls, where he knew contact could make his legs twitch. Soft waves of pleasure sparked through him, and the world slowly drifted away as he continued to move his right hand up and down. His left had moved up now, rubbing gently across his chest under a pale cream nightshirt.

Time stretched on, and soon it was only Seonghwa, his mind, and his very human body left. He twitched slightly, feeling on the cusp of letting go.

But something felt… off.

He couldn’t explain it. His thoughts were filled with all manner of attractive, faceless women, doing all sorts of things to him. Some rode him, squeezing the most sensitive part of him like a vice as they sighed in pleasure. Others only swallowed him, sucking him down deeply like the most well-skilled whore from a brothel.

But he couldn’t… quite…

_ “If you don’t tell me, I’m just gonna assume it was a sex thing.” _

The words of Lan San entered his mind like a rogue invasion. His hips jolted as they passed through him. If he was in his normal state of mind, he would have quickly dismissed them as absurd.

But he was not in his normal state of mind.

Instantly, just like turning on the candles at his bedside, a switch flipped.

The vague, feminine form in his mind’s eye changed shape. Soft thighs riding atop of him hardened, turned masculine, and before he could register the change fully he saw Lan Hongjoong.

Lan Hongjoong. Tanned skin glowing in the moonlight. Hair down and rumpled as it spilled down his shoulders and back, as if Seonghwa had pulled it from its bindings and messed with it. He saw Hongjoong’s face flushed with arousal as he gazed at Seonghwa, sunk fully down onto him. Hongjoong moaned, high pitched and beautiful, and Seonghwa could only watch helplessly as the younger man moved up and down atop of him, eyes sliding shut as he chased his own pleasure.

_ “Hyung.” _ Hongjoong whimpered. A soft pant escaped the Lan’s mouth.

_ “Hyung… you feel so good…” _

Seonghwa’s thighs shook as his climax hit him. He cursed as his release spilled onto his chest, brain going white momentarily as the pleasure overtook him.

Eventually, his heart slowed. Eventually, he grabbed a rag under his bed to clean up his mess, and tossed it back down. Eventually he stood up, redid the knot on his pants, and used the last of the water in the bowl on the dresser to do the rest of the job of cleaning himself up.

Eventually, he collapsed back onto the bed again, knowing he was doomed.


	11. Chapter 11

Yeosang was almost finished counting the leaves on the tree branch before him for a third time before the characteristic thumps of San’s steps approached the other side of the door. It swung open, and a smile so bright that Yeosang was nearly blinded spread across San’s face as he spotted him.

“Hi, hyung.” He said. “Waiting for me again, were you?”

“I…” Yeosang began. He had to clear his throat as his voice strained. “Not so long this time. I really just arrived.”

“Hyung, you really don’t have to. Hongjoongie hyung thinks we’re up to no good.” San said, but his tone was light. Another figure appeared at San’s side, the person’s cautious eyes checking that there were no late-night onlookers.

“Hey, Yeosang.” Wen Wooyoung nodded as they met eyes. Yeosang nodded back. Surprisingly, the Wen was not in the usual uniform of the Lan clan student disciples, nor was he (to Yeosang’s relief) in any kind of deep red nightgown. Instead, the young man wore a set of rather nondescript black robes, with a single black ribbon trailing down his hair setting his usual high ponytail.

“Better Hongjoong hyung thinks we’re up to no good together than apart.” Yeosang said, looking back to his friend. San pursed his lips, considering the words.

“That’s true, I guess.” A raspberry noise blew from his lips. “But aren’t you bored? Hanging out here all the time?”

Yeosang shrugged.

“As long as nobody sees him, there’s no problem.” Wooyoung said, cricking his neck and moving his shoulders back and forth casually as he exited his room.

“Nobody comes this way, these days.” Yeosang informed them. “Even though you’ve been here for some time, your clan’s reputation still invites plenty of caution.”

Wooyoung rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

Yeosang watched the man with some interest. Wooyoung hadn’t told Yeosang anything about his clan, not since the night they drank together. All Yeosang knew about was a grandmother and a brother. He itched to know more, but the man’s lips were firmly sealed.

Yeosang couldn’t blame him, really.

“Where are you going?” San asked, following the mysterious man as he made his way onto the footpath.

“Caiyi Town.” Wooyoung said.

“But why?” San pestered, attaching himself to the other man’s heels as he got further and further away from his room. Yeosang followed, a few steps behind.

Wooyoung let out a puff of air, but he didn’t look annoyed at San’s words. If anything, Yeosang thought he looked almost fond.

“Do you have to always know all of my business, Sannie hyung?” Wooyoung said.

Yeosang blinked, and paused in his step. Wooyoung had called San by such an address before. But Yeosang still hadn’t quite adjusted to it. San didn’t falter, only getting even closer to Wooyoung until their sides touched.

“Can Yeosang hyung and I come with?” San asked, eyes wide and hopeful.

Wooyoung paused, turning to regard Yeosang. For a moment, it looked like Wooyoung would try and say no, eyes narrowing and arms crossing.

“Oh, fine.” He seemed to relent. “But it’s already late. We’re going to have to sneak in and out.”

“A skill both hyung and I happen to already possess!” San exclaimed, grin turning cheeky. “Right Yeosang?”

Yeosang hummed, but he couldn’t resist smiling back at San as the man turned his charm onto him. Yeosang was only human.

And so, the trio snuck out of the Recess walls. It wasn’t difficult, San and Yeosang had the process down pat as they waited at the right places, ran when they needed to, and hid when the odd Lan guard or two passed by. Soon, they were floating down the outer wall of the Recesses, San’s arm held tightly around Yeosang’s middle as the two balanced atop Yeosang’s sword. Wooyoung had an easier time of it, getting to the bottom of the walls much faster alone on his own.

Yeosang spied him from the edge of the treeline as he and San met the ground. They separated, Yeosang’s hand leaving San’s side and San releasing his own hold. Yeosang picked his sword back up, sticking it back into its scabbard fastened on his back, and his eyebrows furrowed as he saw Wooyoung giving the pair of them an odd look.

“What?” Yeosang blurted, a little self-conscious.

Wooyoung averted his gaze.

“Nothing.” The man said, disappearing into the trees without another word.

Yeosang thought over the strange look for a few moments, but eventually it was forgotten as the three made their way through the trees lining the path to Caiyi next to the pathway. It wasn’t common, but sometimes there was the odd Lan or two that would make their way up or down the pathway at any time of evening, and San and Yeosang had long-since learned it was better safe than sorry to avoid it altogether.

Wooyoung took the same method of getting to Caiyi too, so either he had done this before, or he simply possessed a cautious disposition.

Eventually, the three men entered the gates of Caiyi. It was late by then, and the few townsfolk that were still out and about gave the two Lans knowing looks as they passed by. San greeted a few people he knew, prattling on to different aunts and uncles about recent goings-on in the Recesses until he found another new person to speak to.

“Oh, hey!” San burst out, scurrying to a stall in the distance. Both Yeosang and Wooyoung followed at his heels, and Yeosang felt distinctly like one of two stray puppies as he caught up to San, Wooyoung close at his side.

“Look, guys.” San gestured. At the stall, a kindly man grinned back at him, a well-rehearsed sales pitch already on his lips.

Before Yeosang could get any word in edgewise, San had already bought what he wanted. He held out two wooden sticks to Yeosang and Wooyoung, the latter’s eyes going wide with surprise. At the end of the sticks sat two cat shaped candies.

“Thank you.” Yeosang said, heart softening as he allowed himself to enjoy the full blast of San’s beaming smile when he took the gift.

San bought himself a third cat candy, and the three carried on. San had linked his arms around the other men, and seemed to almost glow with happiness as he pulled them through Caiyi. Yeosang glanced at Wooyoung, and noticed the Wen had not yet taken a move to eat any of the candy, only gave it a strange, warm sort of look that made something flip in Yeosang’s stomach.

Though, unlike the last time Yeosang was in Caiyi with the Wen, the dance in Yeosang’s stomach now wasn’t born of distrust and unease.

San had barely stopped talking the entire time. He rambled over this and that. Yeosang gave only one-note answers when directly questioned, but Wooyoung replied much more confidently. By the time their expedition in Caiyi neared the end of its first hour, Wooyoung was talking almost as much as San.

“Emperor’s Smile is good, sure.” Wooyoung said. “But Yiling boasts much finer brews. The likes of which you could hardly imagine!”

“There’s no way!” San cried back, scandalised. “You just say that because you know that I can’t disprove you. Go back to Yiling and come back here with your finest and then we’ll talk!”

“Maybe I will!” Wooyoung laughed.

Yeosang learned more and more about Wen Wooyoung every time they interacted. At first, he was the very picture of what one would expect from a member of a secretive, dark sect. But once the cracks began to break though, it became more and more obvious that a large part of Wooyoung’s isolationist, mysterious personality was just a rouse.

Here he was in Caiyi Town, not even a touch tipsy, but he was shouting as loud as San. When Wooyoung was annoyed, or cheeky, his voice would go up a few octaves, much higher than what San would do when he whined or complained. It made the man seem more boyish. That, coupled with a childish, cheeky demeanor that seemed to appear when he was around Yeosang’s best friend, made him suddenly appear so much younger in Yeosang’s eyes.

“Emperor’s Smile is a one-note peasant’s beverage compared to our lotus spirits.” Wooyoung asserted boldly. His angular jaw stuck out in a show of confidence, and he looked frustratingly handsome as he did it.

San grumbled and pushed him to the side, taking Yeosang with him as he shifted his body weight. Yeosang nearly stumbled, but caught himself before any of his hair slipped out of place. He felt a smile grace his lips before he could catch himself, but he let it stay there as he admired the way the shadows of the lanterns lit up the other two men’s faces.

Caiyi Town was very sleepy at this time of week. Perhaps it was the nearly-empty streets that gave Wooyoung the confidence to act as he truly was,Yeosang considered. The three had soon made it to the outside of an inn that San and Yeosang had occasionally drank in before.

“What’s wrong?” San asked unexpectedly, pausing at the entrance and turning to Wooyoung. “Do you not like candies? You don’t have to hold it if you aren’t interested, Wooyoung.”

Yeosang’s gaze followed San’s to Wooyoung’s still untouched candy in his hand. Yeosang’s own cat was missing its head by now, and San’s had already disappeared almost as fast as it had been purchased, stray stick thrown into some bush several minutes before.

Wooyoung stuttered at the words, shaking his head quickly.

“No, I’ve just, ah…” The man fumbled, eyes going back and forth between the two Lans. “I’ve never actually had this before.”

“Really?” San said, aghast. He dramatically clutched at Yeosang’s side, and Yeosang rolled his eyes at the dramatics. “No sugar candy in Yiling? What kind of horrible life is this?”

Seeing San’s reaction, Wooyoung brought the candy to his lips. A shy tongue darted out to experimentally curl around the cat’s head. A flash of embarrassment shot through Yeosang like a lightning bolt as he watched the Wen lick the candy. The Lan’s eyes diverted away to the inn’s door, feeling embarrassed at his reaction but much more so like watching Wooyoung do such a thing was beyond indecent.

“It’s good right?” San said. Wooyoung must have nodded, as San clapped his hands a few times in satisfaction before he pivoted and entered the inn, beckoning them to follow him inside.

The innkeeper quickly directed the three of them to a back room, courtesy of San’s friendship with the man. The room was small and filled with the scent of some flowery incense. Before long, they were filling up on spirits, and Yeosang was debating just how much of the poison he would have to swallow until he forgot about how much his heart thumped erratically in his chest for some reason.

Is this what he’d been reduced to? First loving a man that would never love him back, and now being attracted to another that also would never wish to be with him?

Yeosang hit back the latest cup that had been placed in front of him by his friend, but with an added touch of grumpiness.

He sat in silence as the two loud men conversed about all manner of topics from opposite sides of the small table. At some point, San had inched closer to Yeosang, growing more affectionate as his face began to flush from the alcohol.

“And then Jimin said that it  _ was _ his cat from the start!” He cackled, quivering shoulders brushing Yeosang’s side.

“No way!” Wooyoung giggled.  _ Giggled. _ The man, to Yeosang’s despair, was also afflicted by the rosy flushes so many people gained when met with alcohol. His cheekbones were flooded with red, and he leaned his body weight closer towards the pair as his giggle fit consumed him. The man was sat across from San around the small table, and for some reason followed the other Lan’s example when it came to Yeosang’s precious personal space the more time stretched on. Gone was the cautious cultivator. Indeed, His and Yeosang’s swords were long-since forgotten about on the other side of the room. By the end of the first hour both the cultivator and San’s thighs brushed his own.

“And why is this one so quiet?” Wooyoung said, turning to regard Yeosang.

Yeosang coughed, keeping his eyes firmly on the table.

“Yeah, he is quiet today, huh.” San nodded seriously in agreement. “I mean, normally Yeosangie hyung is quiet when he drinks anyway, but you’d think he was feeling guilty over covering up a murder! What’s gotten into you, hyung?”

Yeosang pulled his eyes up, and he was met with genuine, albeit drunk concern from his friend.

“Sorry.” He said. “I just… have a lot on my mind.”

“Or maybe some _ one _ on your mind?” Wooyoung teased at his other side. Yeosang flinched slightly, and prayed the other two were too far into their drinks to notice.

“Yeosang hyung hasn’t had his mind on anyone ever, I don’t think.” San shrugged. By some miracle of the heavens, the man inched away from Yeosang some, reaching for a bottle of liquor on the other side of the table.

Yeosang’s lips couldn’t resist quirking up at the irony of the oblivious man’s statement.

“Never? Really?” Wooyoung pressed, looking unexpectedly eager for some gossip.

San shook his head absently, in the middle of a drunken struggle to read the calligraphy painted on the side of the bottle.

“What about you?” Wooyoung asked San. Yeosang’s stomach tensed, and he regretted his last swallow of the bitter liquid that was always helpfully placed right into his hand.

San shrugged. “Women are pretty. Men are handsome.”

“And have you ever had any for yourself?” Wooyoung pressed. Yeosang’s fingers tensed at his side, shocked by the remarkable casualness with which Wooyoung had used to ask such a personal question.

But if San was phased at all, he didn’t show it. He only uncorked the bottle and began pouring into his cup.

The gentle sloshing of white wine filling up San’s cup was the only thing that broke the silence of the room. Yeosang was relieved that the innkeeper had thrown in a bottle of a (comparatively) much gentler alcohol, but the anxiety he felt over Wooyoung’s question made that relief feel more like an afterthought.

“No.” San said, eyes still on his cup. Yeosang’s body relaxed selfishly.

“Really?” Wooyoung asked. “A handsome and charming man like yourself?”

San rolled his eyes, but a smile tugged at his dastardly mouth, and his back straightened proudly at the compliment.

“Nobody’s really ever caught my eye that much, I guess.” He said. Yeosang’s eyes turned back to his own cup. He’d changed his mind. He was not only glad to have had the last mouthful of liquor, but he wished bitterly that he’d had even more.

“And what about you, Yeosang hyung?” Wooyoung asked.

Yeosang bristled internally at the intimate form of address, but couldn’t bring himself to scold the other for it.

“Oh, leave him alone.” San said, patting the table slightly. “Yeosang hyung is like a baby. Talking about this even in front of him feels wrong!”

“I’m older than you.” Yeosang said indignantly. Both San and Wooyoung snickered at him, and Yeosang felt overwhelmingly like he was the subject of some private joke.

“Yeah, but you’re so innocent.” San continued. “Talking about sex things around you feels wrong.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Wooyoung sniggered. “I bet he doesn’t even masturbate.”

San howled with laughter at that, his amusement shaking the table. Wooyoung soon followed, leaning back on the floor slightly as he was overtaken by giggling fits. Yeosang tensed, shame filling him.

“S-Sorry hyung.” San placated, reading the sour look in Yeosang’s face. “You’re just so easy to rile up.”

Wooyoung also murmured his own apology, albeit into his own cup.

“But what about you, Wooyoung?” San pestered, cheekiness hitting another target.

Wooyoung didn’t seem embarrassed in the slightest.

“I’ve had men and women.” He said, with a casualness akin to talking about the weather.

San’s mouth hit the table.

“What?” San gasped. “You little slut!”

Yeosang let out a noise of shock, turning to gawk at San incredulously at the choice of words. But Wooyoung only laughed, and laughed. He laughed like San’s remark was the funniest thing in the world.

“Does my sluttiness make you two fair maidens uncomfortable?” Wooyoung said when he had finally had his fill of laughter.

“No!” San spat back. His face was very red now, but it was impossible to tell if it was from shame or just the alcohol.

“Don’t be sad.” Wooyoung cooed. “I’m sure you could find a man or woman any time you wanted. And Yeosang hyung too, whoever he’s interested in. You’re both very pretty men.”

“You think we’re pretty?” San said, preening fully this time. Wooyoung nodded sagely, like he had just imparted them with some crucial knowledge.

“But I don’t need a girlfriend or a boyfriend.” San said back. “After all, I have my Yeosang hyung and my new friend Wooyoung, what more could I want?”

Wooyoung let out a noise of agreement, seeming to consider something in San’s words. Yeosang sighed.

“We should probably head back soon.” He interrupted. “Lest we let San so drunk we have to carry him all the way back to the Recesses.”

San let out a noise of complaint, but eventually nodded. He still forced them to finish off the wine bottle before they left the dark room of the inn, and it was a slightly-swaying Yeosang that was the one to lead them out.

On the way out of Caiyi Town, the younger Lan happened on another distraction.

“San oppa!” Three little girls, no more than eight or nine, yelled, racing up the pathway towards them. San fawned over the three instantly, and they all hugged him in turn.

“What are you all doing out of bed so late?” Yeosang asked them.

“What about you, Yeosang oppa?” One of them said with a huff. “You’re just as bad as us!”

“Touche.” Yeosang deadpanned back at them. One of the girls held up a child-size bow and accompanying arrows.

“We were going to practice archery at the front wall!” She giggled. “But now that Sannie and Yeosang oppa and,” she gave Wooyoung a suspicious look, “this… oppa is here, we can get help!”

“Hmm…” San considered for a moment. “Okay, fine! But only for a little while. We’ve been into the spirits, children.”

“We know.” The girl smirked back. “We will be able to outmatch you for sure!”

San clutched his chest, acting betrayed, yet allowed the village girls to drag him to the spot in Caiyi reserved for kid’s target practice. Wooyoung and Yeosang lingered back, watching San wobbling in a crouched position as he giggled his way through prattled instructions. Even sober, San was never the most gifted at archery, and his first shot missed the board entirely. The girls giggled shrilly and one of them pushed him aside in order to make her own attempt at it.

“Thank you.” Wooyoung said to Yeosang as San and the girls continued to play around. Yeosang turned to him, surprised to see a more sober look cross the other man’s face.

“For what?”

“For not telling anyone about me. Or what I’ve been teaching San.” Wooyoung said.

Yeosang shrugged.

“He needs it.” Yeosang uttered. “He feels weak. And you’ve appeared out of nowhere with the one thing that could make him feel capable. I didn’t want to take that away from him.”

“But it is dangerous, you know.” Wooyoung said. “Even if you have a good instructor,  _ that _ kind of thing can still hurt people to practice.”

Yeosang sighed. “Yes, I know. But I trust you to not take it too far.”

Wooyoung blinked at that.

“I don’t know why you do.” He said. “I haven’t really done much to deserve it. You don’t even know me.”

“I know enough.” Yeosang said. Wooyoung softened at the words, giving Yeosang a vulnerable look that Yeosang couldn’t keep bring himself to look at.

“You don’t know anything about the Wen clan.” Wooyoung said, giving Yeosang a slightly incredulous laugh.

Yeosang nodded. “I don’t. But I see what you’re like. You try to act all mysterious, but you’re secretly just like San, aren’t you? Loud and annoying.”

Wooyoung bristled, though he didn’t say anything to that. Yeosang smiled at the reaction, and it must have been a trick of the light as he could’ve sworn that Wooyoung’s eyes flashed down towards his lips.

“You have a grandmother, and a brother, and you pick fruits from trees yourselves instead of having the servants do it.” Yeosang listed off.

Out of the corner of Yeosang’s eye, he saw one of the girls crash tackle San to the floor. The other two went on the attack too, and San’s startled yelps filled the area.

“Maybe one day I’ll introduce you and San to them. My family.” Wooyoung said. The other man’s face held something so sincere in it that Yeosang was temporarily rendered breathless by the attention. He realised with a start that all of a sudden he could feel the warmth in Wooyoung’s body as it brushed close to his side. Were they always standing that close?

“Yeosang hyung!” San choked, the weight of three children on him straining his voice. “Help me!”

Yeosang flinched as if struck, and took a step away from Wooyoung. And then another step. And then he made his way towards San, helping his friend up with two hands.

“You’re no fun!” One of the girls giggled as she tumbled off of San.

“Yeosang hyung.” Wooyoung called.

Although it was stolen and not freely lended, the honorific sounded more natural coming out of his lips now, like it belonged there.

“Hm?”

San had gone off to tickle one of the girls, and Yeosang was again alone for Wooyoung to approach. Wooyoung stopped before him, pulling something out of his pocket. He unwrapped the fabric it was folded in just enough for Yeosang to make out it’s shape and presented it to him.

“Here.” He said.

Yeosang froze.

“I thought it suited your personality better.” Wooyoung smiled. “San is all cat, but you’re such a puppy.”

Wooyoung pushed the candy, shaped expertly like a small dog, into his hands. Yeosang stared at it.

“Thank you.” He breathed.

“I… was actually going to come here tonight to see if I could find those ex-disciples again.” Wooyoung admitted, and Yeosang felt a sharp twinge of dread at the statement. He folded up the candy carefully and put it away inside his own robe.

“But they haven’t shown up all night.” Wooyoung chirped happily. “I’m glad I spent the night with you two.”

It took a moment for Yeosang to meet the other man’s eyes.

“Me too.”

Wooyoung grinned so brightly at him. It was another new discovery for Yeosang, Wooyoung’s undivided attention. He wasn’t sure whether Wooyoung’s or San’s smiles were brighter.

“San!” Wooyoung waved at the other man. San was several meters away now, having chased the three girls down the yard with the threat of tickles. “It’s time we went back.”

“Okay!” San shouted back. The man said his goodbyes to the girls, and soon made his way back to them.

The pair were about to leave through the front gates, when shouting erupted from a building in the distance. Yeosang eyed the building suspiciously, and he knew Wooyoung had done the same.

“Hyungs, you should go back.” Wooyoung said, taking a step towards the distant building. “I’ll catch up soon.”

“Why?” San asked. “It’s just the brothel. Probably somebody trying to skimp out on paying.”

“Still…” Wooyoung trailed off.

“We’ll go.” Yeosang said, gently pulling on San’s wrist. San huffed, but allowed it.

“Stay safe.” Was all Yeosang could say. Wooyoung nodded sharply as he made his way towards the source of the commotion.

“Yeosang, wait!” San shouted a few moments into their walk back to the Recesses.

Yeosang froze, looking at him in concern. San opened his outer robe, pulling a small leather pouch out. Yeosang watched disbelievingly as San opened the cap on the pouch and swallowed a large mouthful of its contents. The stench of alcohol flooded Yeosang’s nose.

“Round two!” San announced cheerily.

“You are ridiculous.” Yeosang could only say in response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm... back? I actually wrote this chapter a long time ago but never edited it until now. Life has been CRAZY with corona, and work is crazy too. Don't ever leave school kids it's a mistake lmao
> 
> I tend to write chapters on google docs and delete the double space breaks after i paste it here but i was too lazy to this time. sorry if that bugs any of yall!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im... back?

Dusk was setting by the time Seonghwa made it into Caiyi Town. He should have been worried about the encroaching Lan curfew, but couldn’t bring himself to spare a thought for it as he marched down the streets, single destination in mind.

Despite what he was there for, he still made sure he looked the part of a Jin clan family member before he left Cloud Recesses. Wearing the cream robes felt almost like being at home, like he was in Carp Tower again. The robes, combined with the vermillion mark he carried, ensured that the residents of the town gave him awed looks as he moved past them.

As they should.

He stopped before his destination, grimacing at the front door. He knew even being here would make those in the town whisper. But Jin men were known for such a thing, were they not?

Even if he was one of the ones that wasn’t.

He gave the hefty door a swift knock, and soon a pretty girl in a loose-fitting inner robe appeared on the other side.

“Young Master Jin!” She gawked, giving him a very formal bow. Seonghwa could see a peak of her breasts as she did so, robe as loose as it was, and he swallowed. He gave her a tight nod, and entered.

Shutting the door behind her, the girl began to speak coyly to him as he observed the entrance room of flush cushions and couches. The strong scent of incense filled the room, so thick that Seonghwa was sure it would give one a headache if they were there too long.

“Young Master was good to come here.” The girl declared, a sultry voice thick with flattery. “We have the finest ladies in Gusu, all would be honoured to serve Young Master tonight.”

Seonghwa cleared his throat. “Whatever. Who do you have?”

A few girls floated in, as if on cue. Seonghwa looked them up and down as they waved and greeted him. One of them in particular caught his eye. She was the tallest of them, wearing a light, slightly transparent white gown. Her large doe eyes and small face made her look like a doll made of fine china. The girl smiled sweetly at him, curling a soft stray strand of her long hair behind her ear.

“Her.” Seonghwa said. A few of the other girls whined dramatically as the girl Seonghwa gestured to smirked.

“Right this way, Young Master.” She said, beckoning him up the staircase. Seonghwa followed.

“My name is Sunshine, Young Master.” The girl said, glancing back at him with a coy smile. Seonghwa let out a noise of acceptance, and took the girl’s accompanying hand as she walked him into one of the rooms.

Sunshine was beautiful. Her feminine figure seemed to glide across the floor, long legs peeking out just enough from the gown she wore to give a tease. The only blemish on her youthful face was a single mole on her left cheek, yet it only added to her beauty. These things Seonghwa thought about as she gently shut the door behind her. He was alone with her, now, the heft of his coin purse on the forefront of his mind as he pulled it out. Pretty hazel eyes shone the moment he did so, and he dropped several pieces onto a table next to the door.

“In advance.” He said.

“Of course, the Young Master is so generous!” Sunshine remarked, delighted. She guided him to a small, two-person sofa in front of a low table, where some wine awaited them.

“Would the Young Master like to have me now, or does he wish to relax first?” Sunshine asked, small hands going to grasp on his shoulders. “Young Master was smart to choose this one, I give the best massages out of any of the other girls.”

“No, that’s fine.” Seonghwa coughed, reaching down and going straight for the wine. He poured a quick cup, taking an experimental sip.

Good enough.

He drank more.

He peppered the girl with questions, and each one she answered with all the grace and poise of a true courtesan. It was just as well, he was certainly paying enough. Sunshine didn’t take any of the wine for herself to drink, but she began to pour more for him whenever his glass emptied, encouraging him to have more as she quickly realised how much of a talker he was.

“And what do you think of animals?” Seonghwa said, barely noticing how slurred his speech had become.

“Oh, Young Master.” Sunshine giggled, hand coming up to shly mask some of her smile. “You simply ask the strangest questions. But, I must admit, animals frighten me so!”

“Really?” Seonghwa hummed. “Why’sat?”

“They are such dirty things, in the markets and on the road.” Sunshine said. “But I do like the stray kittens. Such sweet little things.”

“Everyone likes them. Who couldn’t?” Seonghwa agreed, finishing the last of the wine in his cup. His vision had blurred, and he wasn’t aware anymore of how much time had passed. He only saw Sunshine, and her flawless face, her fair skin, her bright eyes…

“Young Master…” The girl spoke up again, but it was with a different tone this time. Seonghwa could only blink in surprise as she came closer, one leg suddenly lifting up to wrap around his thighs. Before he knew it, she was straddling his thighs. Her body heat surrounded him, and he tensed.

“Sunshine.” He said, staring up at her, wide-eyed.

“Young Master.” She said again, a knowing look spreading on her face. “You seem very nervous. Tell me, have you ever had a woman before?”

Seonghwa’s head shook from side to side with all the grace of a village fool.

Sunshine’s hand rose, gently stroking his hair. She came closer, until he could feel her breath against his ear. “Don’t be afraid, Young Master. This one can take such wonderful care of you. Relax.”

And Seonghwa tried his best to do so. Sunshine’s hands travelled around his body, experimenting, touching places she knew men before him had liked. She delivered soft kisses to his neck, trailing down to his chest. There she stopped, pausing to undo the sash on his robes, and parting the layers until she was more exposed to the skin beneath.

“Young Master is so handsome.” She cooed. “I’m so lucky tonight to have a man so perfect.”

She stood, undoing the clasp at her gown and baring herself fully to him. Seonghwa allowed his eyes to trail down, and she seemed to delight at the attention. She beckoned him closer with a single finger, but he made no move to get up.

“Come,” she said. “Join me on the bed.”

She was already moving, sitting on the edge of the bed and giving him an expectant look. He stood, legs stiff as he made his way to her. The naked woman half-climbed on top of him again as he sat on the plush mattress, this time with a knee pressing flush between his thighs.

“You don’t have to be nervous.” Sunshine said gently, hand trailing down his chest. Her hand kept going, and he jolted as it met the outline of his soft cock in his pants.

“I’m sure we can get you going soon, Young Master.” Sunshine reassured, hand beginning to move gently up and down the spot.

Seonghwa felt himself tense further, even his breathing ceasing as he watched the gorgeous woman’s hands try and breathe life into his cock. His body felt tight, taut, but not in any of the ways he felt he was supposed to.

The switch only flipped when the woman undid the knot on his pants and pulled out his still-soft appendage.

“Stop.” He croaked, bolting upright.

“Young Master?” Sunshine said confusedly as she smoothly slipped off his lap, but his mind was somewhere else entirely.

Before he could think anymore on what he was doing, he had made his way to the other side of the room, almost tripping over himself as he pulled his now-loose pants up. He was holding them up by one hand as he ripped open the door. A small thud sounded next to him as something hit the ground, and at the same time something felt much lighter at his side. He gave it no mind, stumbling hazily back down the hallway towards the staircase.

“Young Master!” The girl cried from behind him. “You dropped your coin pouch!”

By the time he had stumbled out of the brothel’s front door, Sunshine’s words had caused quite the stir. Multiple girls attempted to stop him as he made his escape, but he bolted past the lot until the cool air hit his face.

“Young Master Jin!” The woman who had opened the door for him appeared out of nowhere by his side once he had made it back out the front door. She pushed the coin pouch into his chest harshly, and gave him an odd look as it only fell to the ground. Seonghwa stumbled, back hitting the wall of the building.

She promptly disappeared, and Seonghwa looked down at his pants, relieved to notice that he had subconsciously fastened them back up again at some point between Sunshine’s room and the brothel’s front door. Thank the gods, the street before him was deserted. Nobody had seemed to notice what a fool he had made of himself, aside from the few inside the brothel.

“Interesting escape you made there.” An amused voice came from his side. Seonghwa turned with a start to the dark alley next to the building at his back, and let in an intake of breath as Wen Wooyoung emerged. The man was draped only in black, like a dark cloud. He released his grip on the sword at his side, as if some suspected danger had passed.

Wooyoung bent down, picking up the coin pouch from the ground. He held it out to Seonghwa, whose eyes widened. Seonghwa reached out and snatched it up with more harshness than he initially intended, and placed it back into his robes. It was at this moment he realised the sash around his waist was still loose, his inner robe layer hanging slightly off his collarbones. His face flushed with embarrassment as he hastily tried to tie it back together. Drunken hands fumbled, and he struggled to do the job.

“Let me do it.” Wooyoung said eventually, eyes rolling with amusement as he came closer to Seonghwa. Seonghwa felt much like a child as the other man tied it back up for him, hands expertly moving at his waist. The final blow to Seonghwa’s ego was a loud hiccup that burst forth from unwilling lips as the other man stepped away.

Wen Wooyoung hadn’t stopped smiling the whole time, as if Seonghwa’s current predicament was the most hilarious thing he had come upon in a while. Seonghwa grunted, taking a few steps away from him and the brothel before an oddly-carved stone brick caused him to stumble. His axis shifted leftwards, and he could only hope that the tumble to the ground would result in a head injury severe enough for him to forget about everything as he went down.

But before he could register it, a strong body had pulled him back upright again. Wooyoung sighed, steadying him with two arms.

“Shu’up.” Seonghwa slurred, taking the sigh as a precursor to a laugh, or at least some insulting words. The cool breeze in Caiyi had done little to sober him up. If anything, it just caused him to realise just how inebriated he was.

“What happened, Seonghwa hyung?” Wooyoung asked, the honorific tacked on to the end sounding more sarcastic than anything. Seonghwa gave him a look that he hoped was murderous, but little did he know that his unfocused eyes made him look anything but intimidating to the other man at that moment.

“Didn’t like her,” Seonghwa professed, shrugging. Wooyoung kept an arm around his shoulders as Seonghwa tried to stumble away.

“So you ran away, indecent and pissed as a newt?”

Seonghwa groaned, rubbing his eyes tiredly. He wanted his bed. Even the one in Cloud Recesses would do. But it was so  _ far away… _

“Let me help you get back.” Wooyoung said, making a move to the main road. Seonghwa hummed, letting himself be guided by the other man.

“Girl’s are… not right.” Seonghwa murmured, half to himself, and half to the other man as they made their way through the dark, lantern-lit streets.

At those words, Wooyoung turned to give him a look. It was one that made Seonghwa sober up slightly, as he realised those words were  _ not _ ones he should be speaking.

“Not right?” Wooyoung quietly asked him after a few moment’s silence. Seonghwa’s eyes were trained on the cobbled footpath ahead of them, watching them pass in a blur.

He grunted, and focused on placing one foot in front of another. Wooyoung let out a noise of surprise.

“Alright, let me guess.” The man began. “Girl’s aren’t alright, but Lan Hongjoong is, huh?”

Seonghwa recoiled away from the man’s arms, aghast as the words registered. Wooyoung looked somewhat amused by his reaction, and Seonghwa’s eyes narrowed.

“What’re you talking about?” He said, glaring as Wooyoung’s figure drew closer once more. The other man had grabbed at his waist, this time, and began pulling him along.

“Nothing.” Wooyoung said, but Seonghwa could make out the man’s smirk. “Sorry. It was nothing, Seonghwa.”

“That’s hyung, to you.” Seonghwa affirmed, with a wobbly pointer finger swinging the other man’s way.

Wooyoung’s smile widened. “Sure, hyung.”

After they exited the town’s main gates, Wooyoung hurried him along a bit towards the pathway to the Recesses. Eventually, the man pulled him from the path and into the treeline. Seonghwa only sighed as he was tugged along.

“Why are we going so fast?” He complained, stumbling from a tree root caught up underfoot. At his near fall, Wooyoung lit up a small light talisman with a motion of his fingers.

“Trying to catch up to some people.” He said.

“Who?

But Wooyoung only tugged him along further.

The moon was full that night, Seonghwa realised absently. Moonlight spilled through the gaps in the trees, casting a soft white glow everywhere it could. He remembered what it had done to Hongjoong’s appearance the first time they met. What was Hongjoong doing now, anyway? Was he in bed, asleep? Or still preparing for bed? Maybe, if Seonghwa hurried, he could make it back to the Recesses to wish the man goodnight…

“Hey, hyungs!” Wooyoung whispered loudly. A branch snapped a few meters ahead of them, and Seonghwa could see the faint glow of another light and two figures.

“Wooyoung!” A voice said in surprise. “Do you have someone with you, there?”

“Yeah.” Wooyoung said, and he and Seonghwa got closer and closer to the two figures. The alcoholic haze in his mind delayed his recognition of the pair, but he blinked as he recognised Lan San and Lan Yeosang.

“You’re friends with these two?” Seonghwa turned to regard Wooyoung. The world tipped slightly, and he had to shift his right leg in order to level it back again.

“Wow, he’s really gone.” Lan San’s voice announced.

“Like you wouldn’t believe.” Wooyoung said back.

The three men exchanged a few more words between one another, but Seonghwa had stopped paying attention by that point. Soon, they advanced again, with Wooyoung on his left side and Lan Yeosang on the other. The two gave him a few sideways glances every now and again, seemingly worried he would fall.

As if. He wasn’t some child.

By the time they had made it to the wall leading into the Recesses, Seonghwa’s feet were tired and his mouth was dry and parched. Nausea hit his stomach in a sudden wave, and he was very worried he may expel something for a moment. The feeling eventually dissipated, but not before he had clutched onto a nearby tree and dry heaved for a moment.

_ “Hey!” _ A voice shouted out from the distance. The men around Seonghwa flinched as a few white figures drew near, but Seonghwa was too distracted with keeping the contents in his stomach where they were to worry.

“Fuck!” Lan San cursed, shrinking back as the Lan guards approached.

“You four.” One of the guards began, face harsh with disapproval. “All disciples must be inside Cloud Recesses before curfew, and…”

He gave Seonghwa a deeply judgemental look. Seonghwa grumbled, lips jutting outwards into a pout.

“...and drunkenness is not permitted inside Cloud Recesses. Were you planning on sneaking inside?”

“If we said no, would you believe us?” San said, voice sickly sweet. It only angered the guards more, the main one crossing his arms in disapproval.

“Lines, for all of you.” He said. “Of all of the clan rules. It’ll be double for you, Lan San and Lan Yeosang.”

Yeosang hung his head down in what was either shame or annoyance, Seonghwa couldn’t tell. San let out a high-pitched whine, instantly complaining as the Lan guards picked Seonghwa up off the floor and separated him from the tree.

Lan San complained all the way into the Recesses. Even after Seonghwa had finally separated from the others to head to his own room (a single displeased Lan guard in tow), he could still hear the whining far into the distance as he went.

As he fell into bed, with still a boot attached to one foot, he let himself be resigned to his fate.

_ At least I got closer to Wen Wooyoung tonight. _ Was the last thought he had before sleep caught up to him at last.


	13. Chapter 13

Water cascaded off the rooftops of the recesses, the _thud, thud, thud_ of the rain flooding the ears of its inhabitants faster than it flooded the nearby mountain streams. The bottoms of Nie Mingi’s pale Lan robes were stained with mud. Seonghwa hardly raised an eyelid at the sight when he met with his acquaintance that day.

“I heard rumours.” Mingi said, eyes twinkling with amusement. “That you got yourself into some trouble last night.”

Seonghwa grimaced internally, but didn’t try to defend himself. A single line of tension in his brows all but confirmed such to the other cultivator the moment Mingi laid eyes on him. The throbbing in the Jin’s head was seemingly not alleviated in the slightest by the significant amount of water he had gulped down the moment he had woken up.

Mingi cocked a grin at him. “Yanling women must truly be something else, if even the most expensive courtesans in Caiyi send a Jin man running away without even a care for his coin pouch.”

“How does this information travel so swiftly so?” Seonghwa growled, expression dark. Mingi was not affected by the look in the slightest. He leaned back against his chair, watching Seonghwa’s sour expression with amusement. The heavy rain outside the gazebo provided a striking backdrop to the man’s larger frame.

“You’re not the only one who escapes this place at night. One of my clan member’s disciples was also, ehm, engaging in some cultural exchange with some fair ladies.” Mingi admitted.

“Cultural exchange?” Seonghwa sniffed.

“Let’s call it that.” Mingi shrugged, long hair shifting slightly in his loose low headpiece at the movement. “But don’t worry, I can make sure he keeps this sort of thing to himself, if you wish. He only told me.”

Seonghwa nodded stiffly. “I would… appreciate that, Mingi.”

A strange look crossed the other’s face, and Seonghwa’s humiliation deepened when he realised Nie Mingi was looking towards him with pity.

“It’s not a problem.” Mingi reassured. Then, the man’s face thankfully shifted away from the expression that had Seonghwa wishing he could disappear into the floor.

“Did you hear the news yet?” Mingi asked.

At the Jin’s blank expression, the man continued. “There is to be a summit of all the clan leaders in a moon’s turn. Here, at Cloud Recesses.”

“Now?” Seonghwa questioned, perplexed. “Those happen every five years. We should not be having another until next spring.”

Mingi shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know why it’s so early, and so sudden. But I just received the letter from father and mother. They are both coming. I heard many clan leader’s wives and eldest sons are going to attend as well.”

“You think it could be because of Wen Wooyoung?” Seonghwa asked.

“It must be, right?” Mingi agreed. “It’s been over a century of that clan being locked off to all of us after their attempt at taking over the world. One emerging cannot be a good thing.”

Mingi’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, as if something had suddenly clicked in his mind.

“I have noticed you speaking to him on occasion.” He said, expression losing a few degrees of warmth. “Why? Most refuse to approach him. I’m surprised Madam Lan let him join as a guest cultivator at all.”

“I trust Madam Lan.” Seonghwa said evenly. “He must have done something that earned her trust before she allowed him to enter the Recesses. Besides, he has been nothing but gentlemanly and polite to others and myself. I only wished to… see for myself what this strange man was all about.”

“And you think he can be trusted, here, in the very heart of the purest of the clans?”

Seonghwa scoffed. “I could hardly call the Lans ‘pure’. Their monk act is just that, an act. They are just as capable and cunning as the rest of us.”

“Be that as it is,” Mingi said. “Many believe the Wens never gave up demonic cultivation. If he shows any signs, the other clan leaders will no doubt murder him on the spot.”

“Well then it’s a good thing they are on their way here to investigate.” Seonghwa said.

Mingi gave his abandoned tea cup in front of him an absent-minded poke.

“Yes, I suppose you’re right.” He relented. “But I still worry for your safety around this person.”

The tall man before him gave him a significant look. For a brief moment, all Seonghwa could see was the cheeky fourteen year old that he could trick into doing anything, but would match him tat-for-tat in a spar.

“Don’t worry, Mingi.” He reassured. “I do not believe Wen Wooyoung is dangerous, at least in regard to myself.”

Mingi sighed, tension still apparent on his face despite the words.

“There was a large list of high level Nie cultivators that are stated to be attending in Mother and Father’s letter.” He said.

“Is that so?” Seonghwa said, not immediately sure where the other man was going with this new thread.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if your father and brothers end up attending, as well.”

“You believe they will come? My father is clan leader’s youngest brother, and not overly involved in matters such as these.”

 _Not important enough_ were the words left unsaid. Seonghwa swallowed their sting with a practiced ease.

“Still, it’s a possibility. Are you close with your brother Seongil?”

Seonghwa cocked his head. “Not… overly so. He is a good man, and was kind to me as a child. But the gap between us in age was too wide to foster a close bond.”

“Ah, I remember this now.” Mingi nodded, an amused twinkle in his eyes that matched the rain descending all around them. “It was always Seongwoo that would follow you around when you visited us together at Qinghe.

“He was… protective.” Seonghwa smiled. “I think he sees Mother in me.”

“Oh…”

Mingi’s face grew sympathetic. Seonghwa cleared his throat, uncomfortable and surprised at the vulnerability he had just revealed to the other man. He stood, giving the gazebo exit behind him a sideways glance. The rain would likely continue for some time, but for some reason he wanted to be anywhere but near the overly emotional Nie Mingi.

Later that afternoon, when the rain had faded down to a mere drizzle, Seonghwa was startled to find that a small, elf-faced man had tracked him down.

“Hongjoong?” He said, a thrill dancing through his body at the breathless look on the man’s face. “What is it?”

This was the first time the other man had ever tracked _him_ down.

“You snuck out of the Recesses last night, San told me.” The other man began. Hongjoong’s headpiece today was one slightly more ornate than usual, sitting higher atop his head than one often would and shaped like a flower. Seonghwa was distracted enough by its existence that he had to think for a beat longer than normal to recall the events of the night previous.

“I… did.” Seonghwa replied hesitantly.

“First, I was really mad.” Hongjoong continued, scuffing the bottom of his feet against the stone floor in a way that Seonghwa would describe as cute if he only had enough courage. “I was so mad that he and Yeosang had snuck out again. And with Wen Wooyoung and _you?”_

“What’s wrong with _me?”_ Seonghwa said in a tone dangerously close to a pout. “And besides, I simply crossed their path on the way back. Rest assured, your brother and his friend barely saw me last night.”

“Remember when I told you about those… people… those ex-clan disciples of Lan?” Hongjoong said hesitantly. Seonghwa’s blood ran hotter at the mere mention, as well as the now insecure look that painted Hongjoong’s face.

“Why? What is it? What did they do? Did they contact you?” A flurry of questions flew from his mouth before he could think twice. Hongjoong shook his head quickly at the words.

“No, but… I just wanted…” Despite being the person to approach Seonghwa, Hongjoong seemed extremely hesitant now, like he regretted opening his mouth to begin with.

“Tell me, hyung.” Seonghwa insisted.

He had never called Hongjoong by that title before, nor had he sought permission. Hongjoong’s eyes whipped up to meet him, and in that moment Seonghwa could see the wide gulf of emotions in the other’s face. Anger, anxiety, but most of all, determination.

Suddenly he was a far-cry from the model, Lan rule-obeying disciple he had the image of.

“They’re still in Caiyi. I know it. I want to track them down and chase them _out.”_

“I’ll help you.” Seonghwa didn’t think twice about the decision. Hongjoong didn’t look surprised by the reply, nodding with something akin to excitement.

“Let’s go after supper.” Hongjoong said.

Seonghwa grimaced. “I can’t. I have to… write lines as punishment.”

Hongjoong groaned deeply. “Right, I’ll help you with them. We will still have time to find them if we write quickly.”

“They won’t notice?”

“Of course not.” Hongjoong grinned. “I’m the disciple set to be supervising your punishment tonight, anyway.”

* * *

“You’re just not being commanding enough.” Wen Wooyoung tutted, dark eyes going back and forth between San’s face and the still-unlit torch. “It is a spirit of obedience, you have to show strength in your request, or it will not respect you enough to obey.”

“I don’t wanna be mean.” San frowned, staring at the torch in the other man’s hands. It was nearing midnight by now, and the two had been at it in the Wen’s quarters for some time. Try as he might, San still doubted he could make much progress even if they worked together until dawn to make it happen.

“You doubt yourself, and your abilities.” Wooyoung said, revealing himself once more to be frighteningly attuned to his new student. “It is a spirit. You cannot hide your feelings from it. You must try again. Do not worry about being mean, for it knows you are not trying to offend it. Just eliminate your doubt.”

“Easy enough to say.” San said with a roll of tensing shoulders.

“This is just like the spirit of joy we worked with on Monday.”

“Who, the happy-go-lucky old man?” San frowned. “He actually _wanted_ to do things. And he was much more fun. He made you giggle for hours.”

San couldn’t help it. His frown disappeared and his mouth tensed, trying to contain his grin at the memory.

“He was stronger than I thought he’d be.” Wooyoung’s ears had turned red, and it only made San want to laugh even more. “I never thought a spirit that had lived and died in a place as serious as the Recesses could be like that.”

“I wonder where he went.” San said wistfully.

That old man was the first spirit Wooyoung had captured for his demonic cultivation training purposes. Wooyoung had stressed to him to only work with trapped spirits with their consent, and that old man was the third that he had contained and the only one at the time willing to work with them (and probably not going to try and steal their souls).

“Spirits come and go. He was a good first contact for you, but now it’s time you looked at other types to help you as well. This is all what demonic cultivation is about. You don’t use a golden core to power your magical abilities, but the inherent power that exists in spirits all around you. If you’re ever in a combat situation, or out in the wilderness, or stuck in some jail cell, you’re going to need to convince a variety of different types of beings to help you.”

“And so now I gotta get this obedience spirit to do what I want.” San nodded.

“Try again.”

And San tried. Again, and again.

 _Come on._ He thought. _Just do as I say._

 _Why should I?_ The spirit whispered into his mind. When it had first appeared, it was a mere thin, blue wisp of a thing. It seemingly disappeared moments after Wooyoung had shown it to him, but the whispering at the backs of San’s mind proved the spirit was still there and curious enough to cooperate with humans.

 _Light the torch, do it now._ San thought loudly, a hard edge hitting his inner voice.

 _All you ever do is obey that one over there._ The spirit murmured. San was suddenly hit with a hunch that the spirit was young and female, even though no gender could be detected in the voice.

 _He is clearly the one worth obeying._ The spirit continued, and San felt a cold wash upon his shoulders, like the being was dancing across his body teasingly, with an instinct to annoy or irritate.

 _He wants me to get you to light the torch in his hands._ San confessed to the spirit, who made a noise of contemplation. A blue light flickered ever-so dimly next to San’s ear, and Wooyoung only tipped his head to the side curiously as he watched the interaction.

 _Well, if he wants that, then I guess I could…_ the spirit trailed off, and a spark suddenly erupted above the oiled torch, so close to dousing the thing in flame.

 _No, wait._ San interrupted. He didn’t want the spirit to be following _Wooyoung’s_ commands. It was supposed to obey him!

 _Why?_ The spirit drawled.

San, in a moment of inspiration, squared his shoulders, and narrowed his eyes.

 _Don't’ listen to that man’s words._ He thought. _Listen to mine. Surround that torch in ice._

A cold flash descended past San’s collarbones, and instantly the top half of the torch in Wooyoung’s hand was encased. Wooyoung let out a noise of surprise. It was either due to shock or the weight of the object that had the younger man dropping the torch onto the table in front of him, the ice making a mighty _thump_ as it hit the wood.

“I told you to set it on fire.” Wooyoung said, eyebrows raised.

“And that’s why it wasn’t working.” San replied. Wooyoung frowned.

“You commanded me to set the torch on fire.” San elaborated. “The spirit was seeing my emotions, and knew I was working off of your commands. It couldn’t respect me as long as I acted on your orders.”

Wooyoung blinked several times as the words processed in his mind, and a smile touched his lips as San waited for him to speak.

“That’s… wow.” The Wen said. “I’d… never thought of that. You are smarter than you look, Lan San.”

San gasped, one hand rising from his lap to gently slap at the face of the other man.

“You take that back!”

Wooyoung laughed. A contagious, bold type of laugh it was, and soon San had joined in on the giggling too.

“I’m proud of you.” Wooyoung grinned.

“So I’m basically a demonic cultivation prodigy, is that what you’re saying?” San said as he relaxed his posture, leaning back on the cushions that decorated that part of Wooyoung’s room floor.

“You’ve got a long way to go, San hyung.” Wooyoung said. “Don’t forget, not all spirits are as helpful as the spirits of obedience, and you’ll no doubt find less of them the further from Cloud Recesses you get. Some spirits will appear to want to help you, but they can have their own selfish motivations. Like people, some are good and some are bad. The most powerful spirits are also the best at appearing for all the world like some harmless spirit of joy or peace. But they would possess you at a moment’s notice. Use your earthly body to harm others. There’s a reason other clans fear the Wens.”

“Don’t worry Wooyoung.” San said. “I’ll be careful. With you at my side, I’m sure everything will be fine.”

Wooyoung gave him a strange look then. Something about the way his eyes pinched at the sides grabbed San’s attention.

“I have something to give you.” Wooyoung said. He stood up, moving to a chest of drawers in the corner of the room that San had barely noticed. San stood as well, peering curiously at his teacher and friend.

Wooyoung emptied the second drawer of its contents, some paper that appeared blank, as well as empty inkwells and calligraphy brushes. San blinked as the other man knocked something at the back of the drawer, and a piece of wood suddenly rose up at the movement. 

“You made a false bottom? So cool.” San said excitedly as he came to stand next to the other man.

Wooyoung let out an amused breath. “In my clan, all the boys learn to do this by the time we’re ten.”

“Well if you’re all aware of it, is it really a secret compartment still?” San pondered.

“You don’t mess with another man’s secret compartment.” Wooyoung only said. San laughed, secretly revelling in the clue as to what the man’s family was really like. Wooyoung only ever gave him small pieces, and he treasured every one as it was given.

Wooyoung reached into the drawer, and pulled out a small item. It was a lotus flower, carved out of some dark wood San couldn’t identify. As it sat in Wooyoung’s hand, small enough to fit entirely in his palm, San realised the flower seemed… stained, somehow. Some deep red colour, one he had never seen before, seemed to hover in a way most confusing to his eyesight, both inside and above the wood.

“This is a, well, family heirloom of sorts.” Wooyoung said, eyes not moving from the flower. “It contains a spirit, one that became friends with a member of my family long ago. The Wen avenged its death, and in return it agreed to be stored here, in slumber. It will activate once, and defend whoever is in possession of it.”

“You want me to have it?” San said, touched by the other man’s actions.

“I’m sure my grandmother wouldn’t mind.” Wooyoung said, reaching out to San’s hand. Wooyoung’s fingers gently grasped his wrist, and San could only feel the immense warmth emanating from the other man as he turned San’s wrist up, splaying his palm open.

All the warmth disappeared the moment Wooyoung dropped the flower carving into San’s hand. Worse, as the man let go, an uneasy chill danced through San’s entire body. San shook slightly at the sensation.

“The spirit is strong.” Wooyoung said, worry apparent on his face as he watched San’s reaction. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realise. You seem… sensitive to it…”

“It’s okay.” San cracked out a smile. He didn’t want to reject a gift from this man. Much less one so meaningful it made San’s heart stir with some strange hope, so alien and impossible that it made him hurt a little. He tipped the flower into his pocket, and was relieved to find the uncomfortable sensation subside as he did so.

“Thank you, Wooyoung. It means a lot.” He smiled. Wooyoung, ever the conversationalist, somehow didn’t have a response for some time to the words. For some reason, the man averted his gaze from San, as if he was uncomfortable.

“There’s something else.” The Wen said. “I have a… request.”

“Anything. Really.” San said. Wooyoung looked at him again, and perhaps there was really something in San’s eyes that night that he was unaware of, for Wooyoung immediately looked down again.

“I wanted to look in the restricted section of the Lan library.” Wooyoung said.

“Really?” San said. “You want me to help?”

“If it’s too much, then I…”

“Of course it’s not, dummy.” San said, a cheeky grin dancing across his face. “I love doing naughty things. What are you looking for in there?”

“This and that.” Wooyoung replied, gaze pointedly remaining on the floor between their feet.

“Oh fine, don’t tell me.” San said. “I’ll figure it out soon enough, mister naughty man.”

Wooyoung let in an intake of breath. Shaking his head from side to side as if to physically fend off San’s words.

“If anyone’s mister naughty man,” Wooyoung said. “It’s the man hanging out in a bisexual Wen’s private rooms in the middle of the night.”

“Why? What’s he want to do to me?” San couldn’t help himself.

Wooyoung laughed. “More than you know.”

The room fell silent. The tension rose, like a tightening string on a bow.

“I see.” San said. “That’s...interesting.” Wooyoung looked at him, now. Something dark and mischievous crossed the man’s face, and San didn’t know whether to run at, or away, from him.

“It is getting late, San hyung.” Wooyoung eventually said, making the decision for him.

“Yes. You’re right.” San’s lips twitched. “I should be getting back. Yeosang is probably waiting for me.”

“Yes. Yeosang hyung.” Wooyoung said. “You shouldn’t make him worry too much.”

“Goodbye, Wooyoung.” San said. And he left.

But this time, walking away from the Wen’s quarters felt different. With that one line from the younger, something had changed. San’s mind went through a half-dozen break-in schemes for the Lan library pavilion as he made his way back to his and Yeosang’s room, excited to see the dangerous Wen once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never read the MDZS novel, and so I'm not 100% clear on how exactly demonic cultivation is practiced. But hey, this was always going to be a loose untamed AU anyway in terms of the lore, so I kind of made it up as I went here. I based demonic cultivation on both the vague information we got about the practice in the untamed, as well as how blood magic works in the Dragon Age universe. It seemed interesting to me. Hope you liked it!


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